


Sudden Storms

by deadlynerd



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-02-28 00:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2711573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlynerd/pseuds/deadlynerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura's always had trouble with falling for strangers on public transport. But for some reason she can't seem to shake Carmilla... Hollstein AU written for tumblr user ohfuck-i-tripped for Secret Santa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unexpected Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so I don't really know where I'm going with this... I just have a lot of Hollstein feels that I need to get out. This is my first fanfiction so...yeah...

You’ve been so busy colour coding your Lit notes that you barely notice that you’ve stepped across the yellow line until the train blows violently into the station, surely missing you by less than a centimetre. Your momentary shock at your almost demise leaves you unbalanced and your arms windmill desperately in helpless struggle against gravity.

A hand suddenly touches your elbow steading you. You turn, to smile your thanks to the kind stranger _because thank god you haven’t fallen over again_ and feel your heart stuttering uncomfortably at the sight that greets you. Because God Almighty if this isn’t the most beautiful woman you have ever had the fortune to lay eyes upon.

Warm brown eyes and hair set against skin so pale it could have been chiselled from marble by Phedias himself because _oh Lord_ if she isn’t worthy to be one of the Seven Wonders of the world with a face like that and that leather jacket and ripped jeans and how is it possible that she is touching you and holding your elbow and…

You realise you’ve been staring ( _damn it Laura, stop being so awkward_ ) and try to break the hold this stranger has on you by smiling your thanks. She smiles back and your heart decides to perform an impromptu rendition of a musical number.

“Are you alright sweetheart?”

Your heart reaches the chorus line of the number now and speeds up suddenly in tempo, because how can a face like that be matched with an equally perfect voice? And how is it that she just called you sweetheart?

You nod mechanically, and she reluctantly ( _surely it is reluctantly for her hand was on your elbow for longer than necessary_ ) removes her hand from its steadying position and begins to move towards the train carriage. You trail behind her, unable to stop staring at her in wonder.

To your relief, you see that there is an empty seat beside her on the train and you gladly take it. However, she makes no move to speak to you for the rest of the train ride, absorbed in a book. You shoot her side-long glances constantly, pretending to fiddle with your notes every time she looks up to check the station. She’s reading something that by the looks of it could be in French, a faint smile curling her lips as she gazes at the pages.

_Oh…she’s smart too…_

You curse your unwillingness to talk to her, struggling desperately to overcome your fear of insanely attractive strangers on public transport. But you can’t bring yourself to interrupt that happy cocoon she seems to be encased in as she gazes down affectionately at her book. After all, someone reading a book translates to- do not talk to me.

And so for the rest of the trip you avoid looking at her, trying not to think of how close you are to her, trying not to think about how her hand felt on your elbow, trying not to think about that perfect face and that voice-

You try to make ten out of the numbers inscribed on the train carriage doors, maths has never been your strong suit and so this actually succeeds briefly in distracting you from the girl beside you as you frown in desperate concentration at the numbers. _How hard can it be to make ten out of six damn numbers Laura…come on…_

You’ve been frowning at the numbers for what must have been about ten minutes when the train lurches asthmatically into another station. You look up and realise that this is your stop. The stranger does not look up from her book as you exit the carriage and disappointment floods you as you realise that in all likelihood, you will never see her again.

_Oh Laura…If this isn’t the twentieth time this week that you’ve fallen for a stranger on public transport…_

You try and cast her out of your mind, you have Lit notes to colour code after all. It is as you look down at your folder that you notice it. A sticky note, plastered onto the front of your notes. Elegant handwriting flows across the brilliant yellow and as you come out of your stupor you realise that you are holding a phone number and a name:

_Carmilla. Call me cutie._


	2. The Sober Dial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah this is a bit of a filler chapter that I wrote quickly last night. Sorry for any mistakes, and I hope you guys enjoy :)

It’s the early hours of the morning and the sun shines tentatively through the dark clouds that attempt to block out the brightest of rays. The faintest grey light trickles through your curtains as a loud cymbal of thunder followed rapidly by a blinding flash rudely awakens you from a pleasant dream of a girl, smiling at you amongst a mass of dark curls…

You blearily reach for your phone to check the time. Accidently hitting speed dial, your phone decides to _call Carmilla._  

(You’ve had her number on speed dial for a week now, in the vain hope that you would accidently call it- you’re just too damn nervous to actually motivate yourself to _call_ her on purpose, you’ve never been one for making the first move.)

Before you can hang up the phone, the damage is done and a bleary voice answers the phone:

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Oh hi! It’s me Laura! Umm…yeah sorry I know it’s early but the storm woke me and you probably don’t care, it’s just that I’ve had your number on speed dial and I really wanted to call you- because how did you get that note on my folder without me noticing and oh god I’m so sorry it’s too early for this and…”

Silence at the other end. A dry laugh ( _Oh god oh god oh god that laugh)_ and then:

“I’m sorry but who is it that I am speaking to?”

“Oh yeah! Um…Laura Hollis…we met when you saved me from being squashed by a train?”

_Oh Lord…is she going to remember you at all?_ _Is she the type to give her phone number to any stranger on public transport? Does she just carry around sticky notes with her name and phone number and stick them onto unsuspecting girls?_

“Cupcake it’s 6am.”

“It’s _Laura_ and you were the one who gave me this number! It’s hardly my fault for calling it!”

The beautiful stranger sighs and you’re pretty sure your heart sighs with her.

“Okay creampuff, I guess I shouldn’t  give out my number to beautiful girls- (Your fickle heart takes the opportunity to perform a salsa dance) -but I must admit, that when I gave you my number I thought it would be for something other than a sober equivalent of a drunk dial.”

“Isn’t a sober equivalent of a drunk dial an oxymoron?”

Silence again. A yawn.

“Sweetheart, it is too early for this kind of conversation.”

“Carmilla, my name is _Laura_ and what kind of conversation were you hoping for? You didn’t make much of an effort on the train.”

You don’t know why you continue to provoke her; it is as if your mouth has decided to become independent of your brain and heart. Perhaps it is just to encourage her to keep using those pet names that run so smoothly off her tongue…

The stranger chuckles. It really is too early for any serious emotion.

“Look _Laura,_ I wanted you to call me so that I could see you again, preferably somewhere nicer than Shittyrail public transport. But if you just want to talk literary techniques and nicknames with me…well…you’re going to have to call me later in the day.”

_Oh dear god she said your name!_

You’re momentarily speechless, and you listen to her steady breathing for a few seconds.

You clear your throat. Take a calming breath.

“Carm…I would like to see you again…if that’s ok?

She laughs and you quietly resolve to do anything within your power to make her laugh again, because she really is worthy to be one of the Seven Wonders with a laugh like that…

“That is perfectly fine with me cupcake. How does 2 o’clock at Steamy Indulgences on Saturday sound?”

“Really? Steamy Indulgences? You go to a coffee shop called Steamy Indulgences? What’s wrong with Starbucks?”

You barely know this woman and yet you somehow know that she is at this moment, rolling her eyes heavenward.

“Sweetie, can you get to that coffee shop at the specified time and go on a _date_ with me?”

You nod, once again rendered mute by the sound of her voice, and then realising that she is unable to see you, whisper:

“Yes…that would be amazing…beyond amazing…thank you so much, and I’m so sorry for calli-”

“-ok then cutie it’s a date. Oh and by the way- I’m not going to tell you how I got that sticky note onto your folder. I have to keep some of my secrets don’t I? Otherwise I’ll lose my air of mystery.”

Carmilla hangs up the phone and you lift your curtains to look out at the storm still raging outside.

Another sheet of lighting illuminates your room, followed almost instantaneously by a stomach growl of thunder.

You sigh as your heart rate refuses to return to its normal pace.

You reach for your phone, and type out a message to Carmilla:

_I’m sorry for waking you. Have a good night._

Her reply is almost instantaneous:

_It’s morning now cupcake. And it is a very, very good morning. It is not often that one is awoken by the sound of a beautiful voice._

No, it is hopeless. You will never be able to tame your heart, you will just have to accept that you will always be on the verge of a heart attack.

You sigh.

You know with absolute certainty that any hope you had for sleeping away the hours of the morning has been crushed by Carmilla’s voice. Because there is no way in _h-e-l-l_ that you can get to sleep with her on your mind. 


	3. Bedraggled Joker Rats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arrggh guys I'm so, so sorry for the late update. I wanted to be consistent with this fic, but I've been overseas for a week and didn't get much writing done. As an apology, I wrote an extra-long chapter :) I hope you guys enjoy, and apologies for any typos!

Two o’clock Saturday sneaks up on you so abruptly that you actually miss it. When you check your watch you realise that it is already a quarter past two and that you are now officially running late for your date with Carmilla.

You and your best friend LaFontaine have spent the past few hours desperately trying to find the perfect outfit that will hopefully make Carmilla, in LaFontaine’s words “pee her leather-clad pants.”

(LaFontaine insisted on helping you get ready- you’ve been texting Carmilla frequently throughout the week and the inattention in your conversations with LaF have infuriated them to no end.)

After realising the time, you frantically dash past LaFontaine, grabbing your bag and rushing out of your apartment door, ignoring their faint outcry of:

“Laura, what about the eyeliner on your other ey-”

_Of course I’m running late to a date with the most beautiful girl I have ever had the fortune to meet._ You think despairingly, running down the stairs of your apartment and into the outside air.

_What else could possibly make this day any worse?_ You no sooner have this thought when it a rumble of thunder rips across the sky.

_Oh n-_

You brain barely comprehends what is happening before it begins to rain, no surely it is a flash flood, such is the intensity of the rapid descent of water from above. Being in a rush, you had forgotten to bring an umbrella and so you grudgingly begin to accept that you will just have to show up to your date looking like a drowned sewer rat. Or possibly the Joker. (Your make-up isn’t the waterproof kind so god knows what sort of clownish monstrosity you’ll become due to this damned rain.)

You cover your head with your hands in futile attempt to preserve some small patch of dryness on your face as the rain continues to pelt down with unforgiving fury.

Eager to get into shelter you break into a run ( _please, please, please don’t let me trip, don’t let me trip, don’t let m-)._ You’ve been to Steamy Indulgences once before and it isn’t far from your apartment, perhaps a ten minute walk, if conditions are favourabl-

-twenty minutes later you arrive at Steamy Indulgences, looking like a reanimated corpse of a drowned pirate, and half an hour late for your date.

You angrily brush aside a wet strand of hair from where it clings to your forehead and begin to wring out your t-shirt, leaving a large puddle of water, just inside the door of the warm café.

A waitress glares at the puddle and rolls her eyes, but seeing the state of you decides not to comment.

You begin to look around nervously for Carmilla (in doing so you look out the window and notice that the sudden downpour has now stopped.)

Not immediately catching side of a dark haired, leather-clad girl you begin to panic.

_Maybe she left. Maybe she never came. Carmilla did say that this was a date right? Or did you just imagine her saying those words? What if she just wants to be friends? What if she doesn’t like you and what i-_

You spot her in a secluded corner of the café, reading of course. You take a moment to appreciate her, to take her in before she notices you.

Her aristocratic features are as flawless as ever, dark hair swept into a high ponytail. She is not wearing leather today you realise with an uncomfortable lurch. Rather she is wearing a lacy top that hugs her body very snugly, so snugly in fact that your brain is beginning to have great difficulty in forming coherent thoughts.

_Great so right now I’m probably looking even more the part of a zombie, I’m probably drooling and everything._

Feeling eyes watching her, Carmilla looks up from her book. Trying to subtly wipe saliva from your mouth, you smile weakly at her from across the room and you think you see her smirk back a little.

You make your way over to her and realise that she has resumed reading. As you sit down, she does not look up. Rather she raises a long finger ( _don’t think about those fingers Laura…)_ and continues to read her book.

(1984 by George Orwell.)

You shift impatiently, waiting for her to stop being such a jerk, and taking the opportunity to desperately try and fix up your appearance with mixed success. Your t-shirt is still clinging to you like a wet rag, but you’ve managed to get rid of most of the make-up monstrosity using some wipes in your bag.

She continues to read for another minute before looking up and smirking at you, feigning a glance at a non-existent watch.

 “Hmm…two o’clock sure happens later than I thought it did.”

That _voice_ momentarily stuns you again, but you’ve never been one to lie down and take passive aggressive comments and so you quickly rise to her bait.

“I’ll have you know that I was stuck in a flash downpour of rain. It’s not my fault that I’m a _little_ late, and anyway it looks like you were having plenty of fun without me.”

“Stuck in a flash downpour were you? I’d never have guessed. I thought you were just trying to rock the whole ‘I just crawled out of a lake’ look. Is that very in this season? I’m never sure.”

She grins at you and you cannot help but burst out laughing.

“I’m glad you made it Cupcake.” It’s a very genuine, vulnerable comment and you realise that she probably thought that you’d stood her up.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry Carmilla, I didn’t mean to be late, it’s just I was trying to find a good outfit, and then my best friend told me that you were going to pee yourself and then it was really wet and I thought I’d turn up looking like a bedraggled Joker rat-

She merely raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at your antics and does not comment. Of course this only goes on to fuel your verbal diarrhoea

-And this is a date right? Because I really like you even though this is only our second meeting and also 1984 is a really good book what part are you up to? Also…”

You pause to take a breath and she quickly interjects.

“Cutie, it’s fine. And you don’t look like a ‘bedraggled Joker rat’ at all. I told you- you’re totally rocking a ‘just crawled out a lake look.’ It’s completely different.”

Once again, she surprises you into laughter. You realise then that you like her, maybe even _really_ like her.

“And I truly do mean that you’re rocking the look creampuff. I really do want to pee myself right now, you look amazing.”

“It’s Laura, not creampuff.”

She merely rolls her eyes in the manner of one indulging a small child.

“So you’ve read 1984 have you sundance?”

“Yeah, I thought it was amazing! It was a lot like Atwood’s ‘the Handmaid’s Tale’ actually, but so much more hopeles-”

So begins your date.

You realise that you _love_ how passionate she is, how real fictional characters are to her, how she truly identifies with Winston and Julia, how she believes that Orwell’s message is still relevant today, how interested she is in the psychology of totalitarianism.

Her rant about the hopelessness cycle of life and death within Oceania is abruptly interrupted by the appearance of a waitress, who brings with her much needed cookies and coffee after your ordeal in the rain.

Observing her interaction with the waitress, you realise that Carmilla doesn’t _like_ people as you do. She becomes awkward and aloof in her conversation with the stranger, characteristics that could easily be mistaken for being closed off or rude.

However, once the waitress leaves your conversation begins to pick up again. You realise that Carmilla has let down her barriers around you, that she _just maybe_ likes you as much as you do her.

Her conversation with you never loses that passion, that _fire,_ and she seems so interested in what you have to say, so animated in her replies to your queries.

(Even though some of them are barbed and sarcastic- she’s a little bit of an asshole you realise. But somehow, that just makes you like her all the more. You really, _really_ like trading insults with her …)

Even when she’s talking about something as banal as her cat, Bagheera, her eyes are twinkling at you from amidst darkly lined lids, she’s _oh so alive_ and _oh so amazing._

“Really Carm? Bagheera? You just had to have your sarcastic little joke didn’t you? Let me guess…Bagheera is ‘inky black all over?”

You barely notice the nickname “Carm” slipping out of your mouth like silk, but Carmilla surely does, as she jolts slightly, swallows a little.

“No actually. Bagheera is a fat, orange tom cat with an attitude almost as bad as mine.”

“Wow almost as bad? This is one mean old tom we’re talking about.”

“Yes well, it is difficult for one to have as a refined sense of black humour as I do. I wouldn’t expect you to understand buttercup.”

“My. Name. Is. Laura.”

She laughs again then. She doesn’t smile, Carmilla doesn’t seem the type to smile somehow, but the few faint smirks she throws your way throughout the date are enough to make your heart trip over a few thousand times.

And so your date goes on, and on, minutes slipping by in seconds, time rushing around the both of you, the two of you caught together in a small raft in the middle of a tumultuous stream, the two of you battling to preserve this golden moment, this small moment in which you both begin to fall in love with each other. Maybe it’s insignificant in the great current of time, but perhaps, just perhaps, the two of you have managed to construct something a little more substantial than a raft in this river.

You are both falling so deeply in love that it is as if you are building a bridge towards each other, meeting one another in the centre. Time slips by beneath the both of you and loses its relevance.

Despite your poetic ruminations however, time has slid by quicker than you would both like. It’s now five o’clock and the café is beginning to close.

As you both prepare to leave, Carmilla reaches forward and grasps your hand slightly.

“I-I’d like to see you again very much Laura.” She stutters slightly and you are sure you are going to faint because she _said your name for the second time._

“Of course Carm, there’s actually this, um, club that I’ve been meaning to go to…”

 (Clubs aren’t your normally your forte, but perhaps a small part of you is hoping that this will be the perfect opportunity to get drunk with Carmilla and see where it leads.)

She nods at you to continue and you realise that you’ve trailed off.

“Um, I’ll text you details? You’re free Saturdays right?”

She nods again and you hesitate, taking in her beauty once more.

Before you lose your nerve you lean forward and kiss her briefly on the cheek. Your lips ignite at the brief instance of contact your lips have with her skin.

You smiles shakily at her, before grabbing your bag and beating a hasty retreat.

As you leave the café you glance back over your shoulder and see Carmilla sitting at the table, touching her cheek and smiling, a genuine, beautiful smile that lights up her entire face, rendering her even more exquisite. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also- what do you guys think of the Sydney Siege? It really freaks me out...(and may have influenced some of Carmilla's rant on 1984...)


	4. Hand removal and waltzing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to queercarmilla.tumblr.com for helping out with some of the plot details for this chapter :)  
> Hope you guys like this chapter- I'm so excited about the Christmas special that I think the next one is going to have to be something Christmas-themed. We shall see...

“You better remove that hand from me before I remove it from your body.”

Carmilla’s back is to you, her voice tight and aggressive. You flinch away from her in shock and sudden hurt-she’s been rude to you before but never like this.

You’d spotted her waiting for you outside of Stars and Candles and had snuck up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder, hoping to be the one to surprise her for once with a sudden appearance.

However her response is less than friendly. ( _Oh, I’ve mucked up, I’ve mucked up…)_

 But she’s turned around now. Seeing that you are the owner of the accursed hand, her entire demeanour changes, expression and voice warming immediately as she takes in your appearance.

“Oh sorry buttercup, I thought you were another dudebro trying to hit on me.”

This time you’ve come prepared for the sultry tones of her voice of her voice, and so you are prepared to answer her with only minimal hesitation.

“It’s good that you have a spikey defence mechanism Carm- I guess it keeps away all the creeps, although I have to admit you had me a little frightened for like two seconds…I mean do you have much experience with hand removal? Because I feel like you maybe should have mentioned that on our first date, also wow you look…”

You trail off as your brain fully registers her appearance.

She’s wearing a very tight fitting short, black dress with plenty of cleavage (your brain begins to short circuit, repeating in an endless loop _cleavage, boobs, cleavage, boobs…_ ) and oh so much skin showing- legs, arms, shoulders…

Her make-up is heavy. Her eyeliner is applied liberally, making her dark eyes smoulder, her lips are painted in bright red.

And her hair…you want to run your fingers through those perfect curls, want to feel if they are as soft as silk…

Everything about her oozes sex and seduction and it takes every inch of your self-control not to kiss her right there, in front of a nightclub with an audience of horny twenty-something year olds.

You wonder what she looks like under that dress, and feeling like a horny animal you try and pull yourself out of your revere.

You come back to yourself to find her smirking at you, watching as your eyes rove all over her as her eyes beginning to do the same to you. She looks at you as if she wants to rip off your modest skirt and top and you blush slightly in response.

Both of you have been silent for a few minutes now, each taking in the other with affection and lust.

“Well now that you’re quite done, do you want to see if I can flirt our way up the queue cupcake?”

“Laura.” You reply bitingly

She merely looks at you sadly:

“No sweetie, I’m Carmilla.”

“I meant that my name is Laura not cupca- oh never mind.” God you hate her sometimes.

You both move towards the entrance of Stars and Candles, Carmilla taking your hand as you do so. With Carmilla looking every inch a dark seductress, the two of you have little difficult getting into the club.

Loud music immediately confronts the both of you, aggressive in its determination to drown out conversation.

Carmilla yells something unintelligible at you and begins to drag you towards the bar. Once there, she mouths something once more (perhaps asking what you want?). You yell something back over the whiny tones of Miley Cyrus and Carmilla makes eye contact with the bartender, gesturing at herself and you, raising a perfect brow.

_Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea…_

Three drinks later (two is your usual limit but she persuaded you to try a third: “Come on cutie, stop being such a naïve provincial girl”) and you have revised your initial sentiment- this is probably your best idea yet.

Carmilla has made the night a lot more fun by showcasing her various methods of scaring off people that try to get too friendly with either of you.

(Your favourite was probably when she told a fedora-wearing man“I can only orgasm if Taylor Swift is playing live…”

Your least favourite was when she pointed at you and said louder than you were entirely comfortable with: “She has explosive diarrhoea.”)

Whether it is her dark remarks, or the mere fact that she looks intimidating dressed as she is, you find the night amazing- you don’t have to worry about strangers in clubs as much as you usually do. You can let go, because Carmilla will be there to glare away the danger.

But the night begins to get even better when Carmilla, (who still seems to be coolly sober, despite the fact that she has drunk more than you), drags you towards the dance floor, murmuring something about the current song being “better than the usual garbage.”

You begin to jump up and down vaguely to the beat of the music (you are maybe a _little_ tipsy by this point). Carmilla refuses to do so, preferring to stand and watch you move enthusiastically to the music. You yell something akin to “C’mon Carm, have some fun!” before you lose her briefly in the crowd.

A moment passes before you feel her pressing against your back, hands at your waist, moving with you in time to the mechanical beat.

(Everywhere she touches burns and you know it’s a cliché, but oh lord if it isn’t completely right, if your very being isn’t igniting at the feel of her against you…)

The song changes and you turn around slightly to see Carmilla beginning to lose her enthusiasm to what she sees as “senseless, communal body mashing to shit music.”

She begins to drag you towards a darker corner of the club and your body tingles with anticipation as she pulls you close-

-spinning you into a slow waltz, utterly incongruous with the techno currently assaulting your ears.

However, this does not hinder the perfection of the moment. Her lips are _so close_ and you are so intoxicated, both from the alcohol and from her very presence, that you barely notice how out of place your dancing is.  

The two of you twirl together. You and Carmilla, waltzing in a shady corner of Stars and Candles for what could be forever.

The moment is broken when you stumble against Carmilla. (You’ve always been something of a lightweight when it comes to drinking.) You look up to see her watching you with concern.

“Time to go perhaps, sundance?”

She guides you through the crowd and people move away from her glower, allowing you through.

When you tell her that you are going to walk home, she stops you with a frown.

“But Caaarrmmm…it’s just around the former- I mean the corner.” You let out a giggle and pull at her arm.

She rolls her eyes at you and merely says:

“Cupcake, I’m not letting you go anywhere by yourself like this. We can walk to my place, it’s pretty close and through crowded areas.”

“Ohhh Caaarrrmmm, can I meet your cat?”

“Okay Laura, okay…”

She leads you away from the club, a supporting arm around your shoulders keeping you from falling over.

Her apartment is even closer than yours (it makes you wonder how you could have lived so close to one another and yet never met), and she fumbles with the lock to reveal a small, one bedroom apartment much like your own.

You follow her in and she turns to look at you. Her face wears an undisguised look of adoration and affection. The urge to kiss her is suddenly overwhelming and you walk towards her unsteadily.

She moves back slightly, and walks towards her small sink to get you a glass of water.

“Drink up creampuff, you’ll thank me in the morning.”

You take a few sips, placing the glass on her bedside table and then once more stumble towards her. In the process, you manage to trip on the flat boards of her apartment, knocking her down onto her bed.

You end up lying on top of her, gazing down at that picturesque face.

The fragments of your resistance crumble and you lean down to close the gap between the two of you, you are so close to those red lips and…

…she stops you, pressing a long finger to your lips and whispering:

“Laura…I don’t want our first kiss to be a drunken pass that you can’t remember in the morning. I want the both of us to do it for the _right_ reasons, for it to be a sparkling moment of shared clarity…I just…”

Your brain is too muddled to comprehend her romantic ramble, but you nod anyway, rolling off her and smiling sleepily in understanding.

She smiles back at you, and gently removes her finger from your lips. (Once more, you alight with her touch.)

You’re too drunk to move off her bed, and she makes no move to stop you from curling up and trying to sleep on her bed.

With infinite care she removes your shoes and drapes you in her duvet, kissing your forehead.

As you begin to drift into the cocoon of dreams, you hear her murmur, so softly that you are not sure if you imagined it or not:

“Goodnight Laura.”

\---

You wake up with a killer headache, entangled in Carmilla (you guiltily realise that you’d stolen her bed and she’d been forced to share a single with you), your head resting on her chest.

She looks down at you and smirks slightly.

“Feeling the alcohol are we creampu-“

You stop her from using one of her annoying pet names by moving upwards and kissing her, finally feeding that fire that has been burning within you since the two of you met.

It’s a quick, soft press of lips- almost chaste. You know that despite your headache, you won’t forget this time in your lives, that this is a beautiful moment that you will be able to remember with perfect clarity- the wondrous nature of a first kiss forever preserved within your very being.

And then Carmilla leans down and kisses you back and it’s _amazing,_ the two of you crammed into a single bed, kissing as if your lives depend on it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also- I have some ideas for angst and smut in future chapters. Is that cool with you guys or do you want me to keep it cute, light and not too explicit?


	5. Dying Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to hold off on the smut in this chapter because I feel like Laura and Carmilla needed to have a deeper relationship before I wrote that. This chapter is a tad angsty, but the worst is yet to come >:) (Most of you seem to be onboard...)

Ever since your first kiss, you haven’t been able to get the taste of Carmilla’s lips out of your mind. (Despite the fact that after kissing her for the first time, you promptly bolted to the bathroom and threw up in her toilet. Hangovers are not fun.)

From the moment you set eyes on her, surely you were lost. She bumped into you and _bam,_ game over, you’re spiralling you’re getting deeper and deeper and it feels _so right_ because she is there, in every breath, in every heartbeat, in every blink.

This is definitely apparent to your best friend LaFontaine. When the two of you met up for your Wednesday Starbucks (You’re thinking of changing to Steamy Indulgences now though- the cookies were really good at that place) you’d barely paid them any attention, so fixated were you on Carmilla’s latest text.

It was a picture of her. Licking a cupcake. _(A Cupcake by any other name but not as sweet.)_

You had been staring at it in shock for an age, unable to get that image of a dark-haired, pale beauty covered in white frosting out of your mind when LaFontaine had wrestled your ancient Nokia out of your hand.

After taking a moment to take in the site of _Carmilla Karnstein licking a cupcake,_ they merely shake their head in amazement.

“Wow. Lucky you! You did well with this one, Hollis.”

You find you have to agree with the sentiment, because how could you be so lucky?

It’s so much more than just her looks though, you realise. Carmilla trusts you in a way that she does no one else- she doesn’t hide behind that apathetic mask you see her showcasing for strangers. Sure, she’ll smirk, she’ll be rude to you, but sometimes she’ll speak to you with such sincerity and look at you with such wonder in her eyes that you realise that you are _just so goddamn lucky._

You’d begun to realise just how real this _thing_ with Carmilla had become to you on your third date, if you could call it that.

Carmilla had called you at an obscene hour (probably in revenge for the Sober Dial of 6am), asking you to give her your address.

Blearily, you’d mumbled out your apartment block number before promptly falling back to sleep, Carmilla’s voice but a dream.

And then you’d gotten another phone call, loud and insistent and Carmilla was outside your apartment. You went out to meet her in your pyjamas, grumbling irritably under your breath.

“Carmilla…what the hell?”

It was an unseasonably warm, clear night and Carmilla was staring at you, illuminated by the light of a lamppost, smoking a cigarette.

You’d frowned at the sight of the cigarette and she quickly discarded it, smiled at you and whispered:

 “I want to show you something.”

And you were rendered helpless by that voice as always and had allowed her to lead you, pyjamas and all a short distance to a nearby field, frequented in the daylight by suburban soccer mums and their offspring.

You balked.

“Oh no way, Carmilla. No. Hecking. Way. It is 3am in the morning and I don’t want to get murdered.”

“Creampuff.  If anyone tries anything I’ll give them a good whack with this.”

In saying so she withdrew a large, cylindrical object that you recognised as a telescope out of the duffle bag draped over her shoulder.

“Plus, I’m a master in hand removal remember? C’mon cutie, rebel a little for once!”

You laughed, despite yourself because you could not help but fall a little deeper.

So, that is how you in your yummy sushi pyjamas and Carmilla in her trademark leather pants and jacket, ended up lying in the middle of a soccer field, gazing up at the stars above.  (You realised that you were going to have to launder your cotton pjs severely in order to get the grass stains out once this was over.)

The two of you were silent for a while. You looked over at Carm and saw an infinite amount of galaxies reflected in the dark depths of her eyes.

Perhaps she looked at you and saw the same.

The telescope lay forgotten as you both watched the heavens in wonder, silence drifted in the air as you marvelled at the beauty of the speckled sky.

“Do you ever watch the stars and think of your own insignificance Laura? Do you ever look at those stars and realise that some of them were dead long before their light reached us?”

You looked over at her and found her watching you with an odd expression.

“Carm…”

She cut you off.

“I find it comforting somehow. To know, that even when those stars are dead, their light is still shining, still reaching _something_ in the universe.”

You remained silent, knowing that Carmilla had brought you out here for more than a make-out session under the Milky Way.

And then in a voice of broken glass:

“They’re dead Laura. My brother and my mother. And I wish that I could believe that they were still shining somewhere, that the merest fraction of their light is still reaching out but…”

You reached across and grasped her hand tightly, trying to convey through that simple gesture that you were with her in this moment.

She must have understood because she sniffed slightly and continued shakily.

“Eternal reoccurrence means that somewhere, somehow, everything will happen again. And again.

And I want that to be true.  I want my mother and my brother back and I want to be who I was before they died.

But I don’t want them to die again. Because if Nietzsche was right, then Laura, they’re just going to die over and over and-”

She let out a harsh breath and you knew that she had to go on, had to tell you. You ran your hands over her hair, her arms, her shoulders and something seemed to expand within her, releasing.

“It was so stupid Laura. A fucking drunk driver hit them at 100 kilometres an hour and then it was just me. Me all alone and I had to take care of _me_ whereas before it was always mother a-and William and…I just miss them so much sometimes.”

Another deep breath.

“Tonight marks four years since their death.”

You rolled over and faced Carmilla, knowing that she was spent. She was not crying, but was looking at you with such vulnerability, such need that you wrapped your arms around her and hugged her close to you, wishing that it was enough.

“I’m sorry Carm. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Everyone’s always so FUCKING sorry, aren’t they Laura?” Her voice rises suddenly in anger.

“But, they’re gone and _sorry_ isn’t going to bring them back, because guess what, MY FAMILY IS FUCKING DEAD!”

You didn’t respond to her anger for once, merely hugged her tighter to you and then finally, Carmilla allowed herself to cry, to let out the flood into your shoulder and you were there anchoring her, stopping her from drowning.

“God what am I doing?” Carmilla says thickly. “Confessing my sob story to a person I’ve known for a couple of weeks. You must think I’m a mess.”

You merely shrugged. “We’re all messes Carm. Some of us are just better at hiding it then others.”

“Hey I thought I was the wise one and you were the pretty one?”

“Hmm…are the two mutually exclusive? Tad sexist there…”

And Carmilla giggled, actually _giggled_ and you knew that she wasn’t ok because her family was dead and she could never explain it. But you also knew that you could be there for her and get her through it. You wanted to do it for her, this stranger you’d known for the merest fraction of your life.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Laura.”

You gave her an unguarded smile and she pulled you closer into a kiss softer than a breath

The rest of the night was a hazy dream, Carmilla murmuring about her favourite constellations, pointing out the Southern Cross to you (You’ve never been able to see it before and it’s so odd to look at the familiar sky and see something different.)

She eventually assembled her telescope and showed you Mars, Venus and the Moon, carefully positioning the telescope and then guiding you gently towards the eyepiece.

You were exhausted, but something about her operated like an infusion of caffeine because never had you been so aware of another person.

When you turned to Cam in wonder, amazed at the sight of Mars she had kissed you again, and you felt like you were soaring through the galaxies.

\---

When you think back to that night, you can hardly believe it happened. But you touch your lips and taste her, and _oh Lord almighty_ you know it was real.

You laugh to yourself quietly then, because LaFontaine is right. You are so, so lucky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I couldn't think of a way to make this Christmas themed- so I wrote a oneshot that I'll post sometime in the next few days!


	6. Movies and Mayhem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update guys, but I actually have two chapters for you! I'll post the next one once I've edited it, so that should be pretty soon.

It’s difficult to figure out which sort of movie Carmilla would like.

Horror sounded like a pretty safe bet to you (knowing her dark sense of humour she’d probably enjoy poking fun at the people being murdered in the movie.)

But you’re still not sure. You feel so, so close to her at times, but the reality is that you’ve only known her for a month (although sometimes it feels like a lifetime.)

Maybe Carmilla hates horror movies? Maybe she wants to watch a chick flick that you can snuggle to or maybe a comed-

You try to stop yourself from worrying as you select “The Ring” as your date night movie. Horror and death for all.

But trying to stop worrying only works in theory. This will be the first time that Carmilla will have been inside your apartment and you feel oddly vulnerable.

A person’s home exposes their raw elements- their friends and family, their joys and their sorrows. Maybe even their very personality, for surely there is a message written in a tidy room, another scrawled in the arrangement of their possessions. One only had to have the key, to be able to unlock the inner most secrets of a stranger, to be afforded small glimpses into another person’s world.

Somehow, you’re ready for this though. You _want_ Carmilla to know you.

The thought of her in _your bedroom,_ sitting _on your couch_ washes away your fears momentarily, because this is Carmilla and you think that you could be falling in love with her.

But then your irrational fear comes flooding back and so you begin to obsessively clean your home like your friend Perry often does. It’s oddly comforting and you find that Carmilla is the last thing on your mind as you scrub at mould collecting by your toilet.

So absorbed are you in your cleaning mission that you completely forget to get yourself ready for your date until half an hour prior to her arrival.

_Oh my God. Am I going to be late for a date at my own house?_

You frantically throw your cleaning gear aside and almost slip on the Easy Off Bam! Bottle that you had left lying beside the bathroom door.

You’re probably going to smell of cleaning agent for your date, but you don’t have the time to care about that as you frantically apply eyeliner and throw on the first plaid shirt you see. You struggle into a pair of skinny jeans, lunging left and right and wiggling around.  

And then, before you know it, she’s there.

You buzz her up the lift and throw open your door in delight when you hear a soft knock.

You catch your breath, because she never fails to be completely and utterly breathtaking (especially when wearing those _shorts_ ). She never minds when she catches you gazing at her like a lovesick puppy. You suspect it is because she does the same to you when you are not looking, although one can never be too sure with Carmilla.

Her eyes flick up and down your hastily assembled outfit, and she seems to like what she sees because she steps forward and pecks you softly on the lips- a quick hello.

You squeak in surprise and she chuckles at your bashfulness.

“So this is the apartment, huh cutie?”

You nod awkwardly and immediately guide her towards the couch, unwilling to show her the rest of your home, despite her curious glances.

When she sees the movie you have selected she smirks.

“Ahh…the Ring… _you will die in seven days._ ”

Her voice goes deep and throaty as she tries to imitate the creepy girl from the movie and you chuck a pillow at her head, trying to ignore what her voice is doing to you.

You snuggle with her on the couch. She wraps a comforting arm around after the first few minutes of the movie, as you hide your face into her shoulder. You feel so safe in her embrace and you silently thank yourself for picking a movie that gives you an excuse to be close to her.

Just as you suspected, Carmilla enjoys being vocal with horror movies and her sarcastic comments manage to lighten the building tension.

“No…NO YOU IDIOT! Why would be by yourself after the seven days had passed? Wha-“

And then your phone beeps just as the video that supposedly kills you has finished playing. Both of you jump and you let out a tiny scream and then burst out laughing. Seven days indeed.

You check your phone and see that LaFontaine has sent you a winky face emoji with the caption “Make a move already, crushes on broody philosophers.”

Carmilla glances curiously at your phone and you hastily stow it on the table beside the couch.

She shakes her head and you resume snuggling with her. This time however, you try and watch the movie- perhaps horror will distract you from your growing urge to _kiss her senseless._

You become absorbed in the film, and forget about Carmilla as you watch Samara crawl out of yet another television.

And then…you feel a sudden flush creeping, unbidden up your neck. You look around, confused, wondering what could have incited this embarrassing bodily function when you see Carmilla, looking at you.

You realise that she hasn’t been watching the movie for a while now- rather she’s watching you with undisguised adoration. When she sees that you’ve noticed, you expect her cool, apathetic mask to slide back into place.

But it doesn’t.

She’s looking at you with her heart in her eyes and it is terrifying, yet exhilarating and you don’t want it to ever end.

Your relationship has become so much more than just dating, you realise and so, as the scream echo from your television screen you try and pluck up the courage to ask Carmilla to-

“Laura…would you do me the honour of becoming my girlfriend?”

You burst out laughing and Carmilla looks affronted. Samara is currently killing a person on your television, but neither of you notice.

You hurry to rectify the situation and your words begin to trip out of your mouth.

“Carm, I-I was just about to ask you the same thing and then you said it all formally and it was so, so cute…

(At this, Carmilla glares threateningly)

…and I would really like to be your girlfriend because I think that I- oh my god what is that creepy girl doing?”

Carmilla laughs throatily. She’s used to your antics and has become quite talented at gleaning the gist of each of your rambles.

“Oh um, she just crawled out of the television and is now- oh God that’s gross.”

The two of you decide to switch the movie off and Carmilla turns to you and breaks into an ear-splitting grin.

“You really mean it then, creampuff? You’ll be my girlfriend?”

“Of course I will! So long as that means that you have to provide me with cookies regularly. A girlfriend tax, as such.”

And then the two of you are laughing together and Carm’s moved closer and the next thing you know her hands are in your hair, pulling you closer. She kisses you softly.

It’s a slow, lazy kiss and you smile into it as you run your hands up her arms and into her hair. You forget how to breathe, so long have you been kissing and when Carmilla gently slides her tongue into your mouth to run it lightly over yours, you can feel yourself growing cross-eyed.

After pausing for a breather, you kiss her again and again, because she is _your girlfriend_ and kissing her is your new favourite activity. You never want to stop.

Your kisses become progressively heated until you find yourself pinned onto the couch by Carmilla, lips swollen, coherent thought difficult.

She leans down and you kiss again and then her hands are under your shirt and you think you will implo-

“Cupcake I’m so sorry, I got carried away.” Carmilla looks mortified as she draws away from your kiss, looking down at you with concern.

Repressing the urge to whine at the loss of contact like a spoiled child, you clear your throat awkwardly and mumble:

“Carm…it’s fine…I want to…umm…do this….with you.”

“Are you sure buttercup?”

You nod and she smiles at you, and you wonder if it is you that had managed to bring out this happy, smiling Carmilla.

You hope so, because her smile is so, so beautiful and you never, ever want her to stop-

-Your ruminations on her smile are rudely interrupted when she relinquishes her position on top of you and moves off the couch. You protest vehemently and she merely chuckles infuriatingly:

“Didn’t you have a bedroom you wanted to show me?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, if anyone wants to find me on tumblr, my URL is malacology.tumblr.com. Feel free to say hi or send me prompts or whatever.


	7. Kissing and Laughing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep...so here's the promised smut. Don't read this if it makes you uncomfortable.

Your concerns about showing Carmilla your room suddenly seem ridiculous and you practically run towards your bedroom, dragging her by the hand.

Of course, you trip and fall backwards onto your bed. Carmilla laughs and your heart dances a salsa with joy because she has been laughing more than she ever has before and it is _you,_ she is happy because of _you._

She crawls onto your bed and pounces on top of you, capturing your hands above your head and pulling you into another deep kiss. Both of you cannot stop laughing and kissing becomes very difficult, noses and teeth bumping together awkwardly.

Still snickering, Carmilla begins to pull off her shirt, revealing a lacy, black bra. Her smirk grows as she sees your eyes widening (if this were a cartoon your eyes would be out on stalks.)

Leaning back over you, she begins to lift your shirt up and over your head. It gets stuck and you begin to snort.

“Hurry up Carm, I’m going to suffocate in here.”

“Sorry cupcake, how was I supposed to know you were so big-headed?”

That only makes you snort harder and so you end up laughing into your shirt for a good few minutes before Carmilla manages to get it off you.

She looks at you then, running her eyes over your plain, white bra. Both of you have stopped laughing. Something heavier has entered the air, something darker, something passionate and exciting that sets you tingling all over.

Slowly, cautiously she trails her fingers lightly over your ribs and across your stomach so gently that her fingers are but a whisper.

You sigh her name at her touch and she leans down and begins to kiss up your stomach and towards your bra.

Her tongue briefly touches your abdomen and you moan at the sensation, reduced to a quivering wreck.

Carmilla looks up at you.

“Oh cupcake…” her voice is husky with desire and you tremble, wanting her closer, wanting her inside you, all over you until you can’t remember where she starts and you end.

Travelling further up your body, she fiddles with the clasp of your bra. And fiddles some more.

“Are you serious right now?”

You laugh for a second, because her seductress image is in tatters.

“Here, just let me. It has a funny clasp.”

You remove it and she is on you again within seconds, acting as if you had never been interrupted.

Her fingers begin to massage your nipples lightly and you groan, awash with feeling. When she lowers her mouth to your right breast and begins to place gently, open mouthed kisses onto it, you can feel yourself unravelling.

(God you could come at her just playing with your breasts.)

You don’t realise that you’ve set this out loud until Carmilla smirks around your nipple, muttering: “Luckily for you, I’m not in the mood for teasing.”

Anticipation begins to build within you at her words, as her mouth continues to lavish your breasts with attention. As her fingers leave your left side and begin to travel southward, her mouth begins to drift towards your other breast.

You can’t hold back a deep moan and she chuckles at the sound.

(Some distant part of you wonders what the inhabitants of the apartment next door will think of the events taking place. Another part of you doesn’t care.)

She begins to pull your jeans off and you curse your decision to wear skinny jeans. You decide on a compromise to prevent future awkwardness.

“Carm, why don’t you get rid of your leather pants and I’ll take care of the jeans?”

You inwardly congratulate yourself for your ability to still be able to form coherent sentences as Carmilla reluctantly agrees to your proposal.

You see that she is unwilling to come away from your breasts and you chuckle to yourself. The sound is rapidly cut off however when Carmilla, now clothed in nothing but her bra and matching panties attaches her mouth to your breast and bites down softly.

“Caarrmmm,” you moan out because you feel like her name is the only thing keeping you from losing yourself completely. She relinquishes her bite and smiles up at you, leaning upward to kiss you gently.

Her hand begins to wander down to the waistband of your panties, fingers splaying across your stomach.

She glances up.

“Is this okay?”

It’s more than okay, but your affection for her grows all the more for her asking. You nod at her frantically to continue.

(In fact you nod so fast you’re pretty sure you may have slightly damaged the frontal lobe of your brain.)

She yanks your panties down with abrupt forcefulness, and smirks at the sight that greets her.

“God cupcake, look how wet you are for me.”

You shift uncomfortably.

“C’mon Carm, _fuck_ me already.”

“My, my- who would have thought little provincial Laura would have such a dirty mouth?”

“Carmilla Karnstein, I swear to Go- ohhh…”

A long, slender finger has entered you and Carmilla has begun, with excruciatingly slow motions, to move inside of you.

Each of your nerves seem to be firing simultaneously and you whimper and the contact, trying to lift your hips to increase the friction. Carmilla merely shakes her head and pushes you back down.

Steadily, she inserts another finger into you. She watches your face carefully as she begins to increase her pace.

“Oh God, Carm, fuck oh please…”

You can’t remember how to speak, you can’t even recognise the words leaving your mouth, only know that you want more of her, so much more, and that you will beg for it, will do anything, anything in the world for more of Carmilla.

“God Laura, hearing you moan my name…” She lets out a groan of her own, laughs to herself and then without warning, she thrusts a third finger into you.

Her pace has been building, building and you need a little more, because you can feel your orgasm, getting closer and closer and everything is feeling and heat and wonder and you never want it to sto-

Carmilla abruptly removes her fingers and you almost yell at her with frustration, when suddenly you feel her tongue in your centre, tracing your clit and then your orgasm is flooding through you in waves of feeling.

“CARMILLA!” You yell out, and she uses her tongue to help you ride out your orgasm.

You gasp as she eventually moves away and lies down beside you, gazing that unguarded, affection gaze at you.

“Whoa…Carm…that was…”

“The best you ever had?” She quips, raising an annoyingly perfect brow.

“Oh shut up.” You say affectionately, pulling her into another kiss. It’s hard to stay mad at her when she’s just given you such feeling, such bliss.

“Hey Carm?’

“Mm cutie?”

“Why are you still partially clothed?”

“You’ll have to work on that for me, cupcake.”

And when you’re above Carmilla, and she’s whispering: “Laura, Laura, Laura…” your name dancing on her lips like a prayer, you know for certain that you are in love with her.

You smile at the realisation because you are _in love_ and it is as wondrous as everyone says.

Afterwards you and Carmilla lie naked in each other’s arms, utterly spent.

As you begin to drift off to sleep, she kisses the top of your head lightly and snuggles closer to you, capturing you in her warm embrace. Her heartbeat beats steadily against your ear as she whispers:

“Goodnight, creampuff.”

And then, so quietly you could have imagined it:

“I love you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is...
> 
> Also you guys should go follow my Secret Santa (well ex-Secret Santa now that she knows who I am...) on tumblr at ohfuck-i-tripped.tumblr.com


	8. Rain and Burnt Toast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had major Writer's block for this chapter and I'm still not entirely satisfied with it, but I've been editing it for days so I think I'll just have to deal. 
> 
> Also writing this chapter made me realise that Laura and Carmilla have had quite a smooth sailing relationship so far. So here's a heads up to some major angst (it'll probably be in Chapter Ten or Eleven...I'll keep it fluffy just a little longer.)

When you wake up in the morning, you experience a moment of complete bliss. You’re tangled up in Carmilla, arms thrown over her, your legs pressed against her own. It’s actually quite uncomfortable now that you’re awake, but as you slowly open your eyes and see Carmilla asleep, the feeling of bliss only grows within you.

You watch her for a few moments and feel a wave of affection pass though you. She shifts in her sleep, murmurs and then opens her eyes.

The two of you gaze at each other for a few moments. Neither of you notice the bleary eyes and the messy hair. Both of you are so captured by the gaze of the other, each finding wonder in the briefest of glances.

You lean forward and gently press your lips against hers. The two of you kiss sleepily for a few minutes, a lazy, relaxed kiss that you wish could last forever.

Carmilla eventually breaks away and laughs, because your morning breath is terrible.

You yawn (Carmilla winces at the smell), pull her in closer and whisper in her ear, biting on her lobe gently:

“Do you like toast? Because that’s all I have in my apartment…”

Carmilla, distracted by your proximity manages to choke out “Toast…is…fine…”

And then she turns her head, and the two of you are kissing again. Neither of you feel any pressure to stop, it being a weekend and so your kisses stretch on and on- slow kisses, passionate kisses, clumsy kisses. Each one makes you feel like you are flying, each one is equally as amazing as the last.

But unfortunately, just as Carmilla begins to kiss down your neck, your stomach decides to let out a loud, unpleasant growl.

She merely chuckles:

“Toast then?”

\---

You burn the toast of course, but Carmilla doesn’t seem to mind- she even seems to enjoy eating charred bread with raspberry jam as you apologise profusely for the lack of food in your apartment.

Both of you chew in silence for a few minutes and then Carmilla leans forward and mutter:

“You have a little…something.”

She reaches out a slender finger and wipes a smidgeon of strawberry jam off the corner of your mouth. She rests the finger on your lips for a fraction longer than necessary, before she brings it towards her own mouth and carefully licks the jam off it.

You almost faint with desire. How Carmilla has managed to turn eating burnt toast into a seduction, you will never know.

But you’re not complaining, as you eagerly lean towards and kiss her. You taste raspberries and burnt bread and that addictive taste of _Carmilla_ and it is _oh so_ wonderful.

\---

“Carm, we should leave my apartment. It’s a beautiful day.”

“But you’re more beautiful, cupcake.”

You roll your eyes, because the two of you have been inside your apartment for the whole morning, and Carmilla’s been showing you just how beautiful she thinks you are.

But now you want to do something romantic, something to celebrate your new relationship.

“C’mon, let’s go be one of those annoyingly affectionate couples in the park.” You whine.

Carmilla’s tone takes on that of a five year old as she refuses to leave your bed.

“No. I want to stay here with you.”

“Carmilla.” You pout at her and try and give her puppy dog eyes. This is met with surprising success as she groans, and begins to slowly search around the room for her clothes.

\---

 _Dear Lord,_ you think you could be in love with this woman, but sometimes she can be so difficult. Having managed to entice her out of your apartment, she walks beside you to the park with a dour expression, acting as though you have asked her to kill a puppy.

You try and ignore her grumpiness, focussing instead on your linked hands and the tingle you still get every time you’re near her.

“Carm, look at that bird! Do you think it could be a nutcracker? Or a jay?”

She doesn’t respond, looking up at it briefly before returning her gaze to the path in front of you.

(Her apathy is really beginning to irritate you and you take several deep breaths. The two of you have never had a really serious argument and you don’t want to start on this beautiful day.)

_Stupid, grumpy girlfriend who may or may not have said she loved me and hasn’t mentioned it again and is now treating the world like a pile of-_

You’re so focussed on your internal rant that you don’t notice the dip in the pavement and so begins your inevitable spiral downwards to meet the hard concrete ground.

But of course she’s there, to catch you, just like she did in your first meeting. She gazes down at you, a smirk playing across her lips.

Her previous apathy has gone, and you realise that when she looks at you, she sees something worth caring about.

A rude interjection of thunder has the two of you jumping in fright. As Carmilla helps you up, you look up and see that dark storm clouds have begun to spread across the sky.

_Oh no…_

And then comes the downpour, with little warning.

“Really cupcake? We could have avoided all of this if we had just STAYED INDOORS!”

“Shut up and start running Carm.”

With a token eye-roll that you are somehow still able to see through the ridiculous downpour, Carmilla grabs your hand and starts tugging you home.

\---

Miraculously you don’t fall on the way home (perhaps it has something to do with Carm’s hand guiding you through the rain.)

Of course, both of you are completely and utterly drenched and so the two of you strip off your outer layers and huddle by your heater.

You sit in silence for a bit, watching the rain flash by your window.

And then, you can’t ignore what has been bugging you all day. You have to say it all you’ll go mad with the wondering.

( _Oh God you can’t, what if she reacts badly, what if you screw up your fledgling relationship, what if..._ )

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. You look into her eyes and you see _it_ again, you see her love and you know it will be alright.

“Hey Carm…did you really say you loved me last night?”

She doesn’t reply for an age, staring out the window, an image of troubled beauty. She is silent for so long that you begin to fear that she will never reply, that you have made an awful mistake.

And then, softly, a whisper:

“I don’t know Laura. I think what I feel for you…could possibly be love.”

She has that bare, vulnerable look on her face again, the one that wipes away her hard edges and renders her almost childlike.

You feel a swooping sensation within you, a growing warmth, that has nothing to do with the proximity of the heater and everything to do with Carmilla, with that beautiful, smart woman who is somehow interested in you.

(You’re grinning like a child at Christmas and you can’t seem to stop.)

If you could get your cold, stiff, rain-drenched legs to move you would surely be doing a happy dance at this moment, (it's probably good that you can't, you can almost hear Carmilla's derisive comments.)

Realising that you probably look deranged with happiness you try to return to a semblance of normality by taking her hand in your own.

And it slips out so easily. 

 “It’s ok, Carm. I think I might love you as well.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story- I had no idea what to name this fic when I started writing it, so I looked outside my window, (it had been sunny a few moments ago) and what did I see but a freaking apocalyptic storm?! Hence the name- Sudden Storms. 
> 
> Anyway yeah keep a look out for Chapter Nine. I actually know what I'm going to write in this chapter so it should be a little more coherent than this one (sorry!)


	9. Raging...bad person

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was supposed to be a fluffy chapter but somehow it got angsty. Oh well- enjoy the smut!

You decide that, after dating Carmilla for a month and being her girlfriend officially for a week, it’s time she met your friends.

(You hold off on introducing her to your dad. He can be a little intense and you’re not sure how Carmilla will react to meeting your family, seeing as she’s lost hers.)

And so that is how you end up on a double date with LaFontaine and Perry.

Of course, the two deny that it is a double date and Perry is outraged at the suggestion that it is anything but perfectly platonic.

(“No, this is just a _normal_ lunch meeting with a couple and my best friend!”)

What you hadn’t counted on however, was what a raging…bad person Carmilla could be.

When LaFontaine and Perry arrived, Carmilla immediately affected the cool and sarcastic persona that she often showcased around strangers.

And while you didn’t begrudge her her personality, you can’t help but feel like she could make a bit more of an effort.

When LaFontaine had sat down, they had raised an eyebrow at Carmilla and chuckled.

“So you must be the one Laura’s been so head over heels for?”

“Must I be?” Carmilla had drawled, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows at LaF.

Their grin had immediately faded and on seeing this, Perry had taken an immediate disliking to Carmilla.

Leaving you in an awkward lurch of lunchtime conversation.

But, you try to remain cheerful, try to do your best as you speak into the awkward gaps of conversation.

“So, umm…Carmilla- LaF here is doing Advanced Science at my University and Perry is doing Arts.”

If you’d hoped that mentioning the Arts would peak Carmilla’s interest finally, you were sadly mistaken.

She merely smirks at Perry and LaFontaine and remains silent.

Dear God you have never wanted to punch someone as much as you do Carmilla in this moment, because you _know_ that she is so much more than this sharp, angry girl.

And yes, maybe you wanted to show her off a little to LaFontaine and Perry, show them the beautiful , intelligent girlfriend that you had somehow managed to land.

How were you supposed to know that your beautiful girlfriend would decide not to attend lunch, and send in her stead a grumpy, cold…bad person?

You try to ignore her, determined to remain cheerful as you chatter on about the various events at your university.

Carmilla remains grumpily silent, glaring at a confused LaFontaine and an annoyed Perry.

It’s a welcome interruption when the waiter arrives to take your orders- surely Carmilla will have to speak now, if only to order her meal?

She does of course and in her low voice orders a sweet potato mash with hummus on the side. Her voice, as ever sends tingles up your spine.

You hate that you’re still insanely attracted to her when she is being so awful to your friends.

But you don’t choose who you love and the fact of the matter is, that as you look over at her carefully ordering, you want to touch her all over, rip her clothes off and…

You pull your mind out of the gutter hurriedly, but not before Carmilla notices your heated glance.

Trying to distract yourself, you order the first thing on the menu, not caring what it is and not noticing the raised eyebrows of your friends.

Once the waiter has left, you turn to resume talking to those at the table who wish to talk, but Carmilla has other ideas.

“And I just think, that our universities’ policy on feminism needs to be seriously revised to include-”

You break off because Carmilla’s hand has begun to wander up your knee under the table.

LaFontaine doesn’t notice anything odd, and nods enthusiastically, their red hair flopping against their forehead.

(Beside them, Perry watches their hair flop with something akin to adoration.)

However you are unable to pay any attention to either of them, because Carmilla’s hand is still drifting dangerously up your dress.

You try, you really do, nodding at the right places, oohing and ahhing when appropriate. But it is _oh so_ hard when Carmilla begins to slowly, much too slowly, to dance her hand up your inner thigh, lightly tickling your skin.

You shift and strain against your seat, needing more contact. Her hand reaches upwards and upwards, closer and closer…

Just as it reaches the area where you need it most, Carmilla withdraws her hand and stands up, a strained expression on her face.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” She growls out.

You’re surprised and confused to say the least. And then abruptly, in a swirling malignant storm, your anger at her thunders through you.

Why was she being like this?

And so you almost miss the sad, scared look she shoots you as she pushes away from the table and strides away, so enraged are you.

(You and Perry both catch LaFontaine checking out Carmilla’s ass as she walks away, but neither of you comment.)

You try desperately to apologise for your grumpy girlfriend.

“Yeah, I’m sorry guys, I guess she has a lot of baggage about family and friends and whatnot, I just thought…”

You trail off, because your own words have suddenly registered. You’re abruptly terrified that there is something up with Carmilla, something more than just being antisocial.

 “I should really go check on her…she’s been in the bathroom a while now…I should be back soon!” You leave LaFontaine and Perry on their ‘definitely not a date’ and almost run to the bathroom, so scared are you that Carmilla is having a breakdown.

You push open the door to the bathroom-

-and lips assault yours.

It’s Carmilla of course, waiting to ambush you. And suddenly your rage comes flooding back.

“What the hell Carm? Why are you being so mean to my friends? And now…what? You’re trying to have sex with me in a bathroom?”

“It’s not like you don’t want to creampuff.” She chuckles darkly and tries to keep kissing you.

But you will not accept defeat, pushing her away again.

“No. No. Carm, tell me what’s bothering you?”

Her expression darkens, but on seeing how earnest you are, something seems to soften within her. She reaches over to you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’m sorry cupcake. It’s no excuse, I just….sometimes I find it difficult to…”

She looks extremely affronted before blurting out:

“I just hate meeting new people ok? And LaF…well they reminded me of Will and it just kind of…”

You’re shocked to say the least.

Carmilla has always seemed to you to be a savvy, seductive woman with her finger on the pulse of society.

You realise then that you’d neglected to understand that she was something other than an amazing girlfriend. Because she wasn’t perfect. She was as flawed, as afraid, scared and alone as the rest of humanity.

Your love had perhaps blinded you but no longer- Carmilla was a scared girl, who in this moment needed you as much as you did her.

“Hey, hey,” you murmur softly reaching over to take her hand. “You don’t have to hide from me Carm. If you’re ever not comfortable…”

She looks at you with her heart in her eyes and suddenly you’re aware of how conveniently empty the bathroom is.

You know that sex doesn’t fix everything, but Carmilla has such a look of naked need in her eyes that you cannot help but lean forward and kiss her softly.

And then harder, pushing her against the bathroom sink.

You pause, because you and Carmilla really should talk.

But Carmilla’s tears brush against your cheeks and she whispers with such need, such vulnerability:

“Please Laura…I need you. Please cutie…”

And so you kiss her again and begin to gently run your fingers up her skirt.

“Baby, are you sure?” you whisper into her mouth as your fingers reach her panties.

“Cupcake, just fuck me already.”

The expletive works its magic and you pull her underwear away.

You push her up against the sink, so that she is sitting almost on the edge of it, and gently spread her legs, lowering your face. Carmilla’s fingers tangle into your hair desperately.

Your tongue enters her and she moans out, yanking roughly on your as you begin to gently brush over her clit with the tip of your tongue.

“Harder cupcake, more, more….”

You flatten your tongue out and lick up and down her vulva, before abruptly dipping into her opening.

Her head bangs against the bathroom mirror for a fraction of a second as she whispers your name in a deep purr.

You remove your tongue from her and instead begin to press open mouthed kisses around her clit, lightly pressing it with your tongue occasionally.

When her fingers dig deep into your skull, you work your way back down to her opening and begin to tease it with gentle flicks.

Her walls begin to tighten around you and you can feel that she is getting closer. Smiling in satisfaction you dip your tongue into her once more, her taste everywhere.

You begin to increase the motions of your tongue within her, getting progressively faster.

“Oh my god, I’m going to-“

And that is all it takes for apathetic, hostile Carmilla to come completely undone for you as her orgasm rocks through her in slow waves.

“Ah…Laura…”

After helping her ride out her orgasm on your tongue, you stand up, concerned, because you can see tears glistening in her eyes and you’re scared that you did something horribly wrong.

“Carm…”

“No cutie, it’s just…I’ve never had someone love me like you have before.” She wipes away her tears, smiles shakily at you and collapses against the sink, pulling her skirt.

Both of you start to laugh then, because life is so ridiculous, so confusing, so perfectly odd.

You have just had _sex_ with Carmilla in a freaking bathroom in the middle of a double date, for God’s sake!

It was a miracle, surely, that no one had walked in, but you knew that you would do it all over again, if not to make her smile just a little longer.

After fixing mused hair and haphazard clothing, the two of you return to LaFontaine and Perry, both of you flushed, both of you trying not to grin like lovesick idiots.

(However this is ultimately futile. One look at you and LaF just _knows_ what the two of you were just doing.)

As you sit down, the waiter arrives with the food and you smile at him happily, looking down at what you ordered and finding…

_Oh no._

Boiled brussels sprouts. With cabbage and broccoli.

Oh God, you really should have checked what you were ordering…

(But honestly who would have combined those most hated foods together?)

Still, as double dates went, surely bathroom sex, outright hostility and boiled brussels sprouts wasn’t the absolute worst it could have gone?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also guys- how hilarious was the role reversal today? I've already watched it at least seven times...


	10. Laura Hollis, the felon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops sorry for taking ages to update.  
> Oh and I probably should have mentioned this WAY earlier- this is an all human AU.

In no way is Carmilla Karnstein perfect.

But when she calls you after your last lecture to ‘come and meet her in the quadrangle lawn’ and you find her on a picnic rug, with an assortment of delicious sugary food, you find it hard to remember that she’s not entirely perfect.

Looking up from a copy of Catch 22, she smiles at you as you draw nearer.

You realise that perhaps what you felt for her before was only puppy love, a limited love based on an idealised Carmilla that did not exist.

But you see her now. You understand her and you think she understands you.

This is particularly clear when she offers you a packet of cookies without a word upon seeing your face.

_She knows just what to do to make me feel better…_

You’d had a particularly bad lecture, in which your jerkface Professor had decided to “volunteer” you to answer a question you did not know the answer to. You didn’t understand why people who were supposed to love sharing knowledge, insisted on doing that.

And you hated not knowing things, it made you feel like you were a failure, that you were letting your Dad down.

And so, you gratefully take a cookie from Carmilla and place your head on her lap, loving the feeling of her all over you, using her presence to wash away your bad day.

Her fingers begin to comb through your hair gently and the two of you pause in silence to soak in the beauty of the warm summer’s day.

“I know how stressed you get about everything because of your Dad…” Carmilla eventually murmurs, her hands still tangled in your hair.

You remain silent, still chewing your cookie in contentment.

Eventually you sigh.

“It’s just a lot of pressure sometimes being an only chil-” You break off abruptly, cursing your insensitivity. Carmilla had lost her brother and you were whining about being alone?

You look down at the cookie in your hand, completely ashamed of yourself.

_If cookies could talk, this one would be disgusted with me._

But Carmilla leans down and gently kisses you on the mouth (she tastes like cookies and chocolate) and she murmurs into your lips:

“It’s ok cupcake. You can tell me anything.”

And it’s another one of those perfect moments that you have been having so many of with her.

(You don’t know that they cannot last forever, this being your first time in love. But you will enjoy day after perfect day whilst it lasts, naïve girl that you sometimes are.  Until, of course, a storm disrupts it all.)

“Carmilla? Is that you?” A soft, female voice draws you out of a daydream involving Carmilla and a large quantity of chocolate.

“Elle?” Carmilla goes rigid, something closing off inside her as she leans away from you slightly. Her fingers, still intertwined with yours, tighten with painful intensity.

You’re not surprised that someone has recognised Carmilla, she is working on her doctorate in a nearby university after all.

What is surprising, however, is the look of mutual disgust on both women’s faces.

“Are you completely serious Elle? Are you an utter lackwit? You have the audacity, the nerve, to come up to me while I’m with my _girlfriend_ on a fucking date, after you dumped me when my mother and brother died. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You appraise Elle again, your face mirroring the disgust on Carmilla’s face.

_How could anyone abandon her, when she needed them so desperately?_

Carmilla’s apparent ex-girlfriend responds with equal vigour, tossing her curly blonde hair over her shoulder dramatically.

 “Yeah, I don’t know Carmilla. Maybe it was because of all those girls you were _screwing_ on the side while you were ‘grieving.” Her voice is really starting to grate on you, and you feel your hands clenching into fists. You knew Carmilla would never do something like that, would never cheat. _Ever._

“I’m sorry Elle, but those ‘girls’ were just fictitious creations of your paranoid, asshole mind.”

“Oh- I’m the asshole you freaking MONSTER-”                                        

At Elle’s words, Carmilla makes a tiny, hurt sound in the back of her throat that you never, ever want to hear again. And at that, you can be silent no longer. You’d been shocked by the sudden appearance of Elle, caught in a stupor, and so had been uncharacteristically silent. You were all for letting Carmilla fight her own battles, but this had gone too far.

And so you stand up, squaring your shoulders and placing your tiny body between Carmilla and Elle.

Carmilla remains on the picnic rug, glaring at a red thread and picking at it with a dark expression.

You enunciate very clearly to Elle, desperately resisting the urge to punch her right in the mole on her cheek.

_Deep breaths Laura- in and out, in and out…_

“Elle, I appreciate that you have some unresolved ‘issues’ with my girlfriend, and that must be really hard for you. But you are not. Thinking. Rationally. And you need to leave.”

You’re proud of how calmly you managed to say it, even though your entire body is trembling with suppressed rage.

Elle folds her arms and glares at you.

She steps uncomfortably close and whispers right into your face, spraying you with garlic smelling spittle.

“I’m doing you a favour, Carmilla’s ex-toy to Carmilla’s current toy.” Her voice is high-pitched and girlish, much like Umbridge’s from Harry Potter and you experience a deep wave of utter and complete hatred for the girl in front of you.

Carmilla gets up then as you glare back at Elle, moving to stand beside you. She drapes her arm around you, pulling you closer to her and smirking, her trademark sardonic smirk.

“And yet, Elle dearest,” she drawls out in a low rasp, “You still miss our little…fling…”At this, Carmilla kisses your neck gently.

(Of course you melt into her- but not for long. You have a girlfriend to defend, and you must maintain Constant Vigilance.)

Elle seems to swell like a toad at Carmilla’s words (the resemblance to Umbridge is uncanny) and she tosses her hair once more.

She directs her words to you, ignoring the overly affectionate Carmilla entangled in you.

“Look. I know you think that you’re special- but Carmilla Karnstein is fucked up. You should stay the hell away from her, because she is just a screwed up, inhuman, MONS-”

She’d been tossing her hair throughout her rant and it was that that pushed you over the edge.

You lunge forward, out of Carmilla’s embrace and you punch Elle. In the face. Hard.

You’ve been taking Krav Maga your whole life and your technique is pretty much perfect. Elle is going to be getting one hell of a bruise around that stupid mole of hers.

You allow yourself to feel smug for a fraction of a second before time unfreezes and you realise with dawning horror what you have just done.

You’ve PUNCHED someone.

_Oh no oh no oh no oh no…_

Everything comes rushing back in vivid technicolour as you watch Elle slowly fall down to the ground, clutching her cheek in utter shock and looking up at you with tears in her eyes.

Beside you, Carmilla is doubled over in mirthless laughter. Normally you love to hear her laugh, but now is not the time.

“Oh God. I punched someone. I’m a criminal now. I’m a felon- what is WRONG with me? Oh God Carm, I’m going to go to prison and get a prison wife-” You’re on the verge of hysterics and Carmilla manages to calm down enough to pat you comfortingly on the shoulder.

You begin to look around the quad, to see who might have seen you commit the heinous crime. But shockingly, no one is even looking your way. They’ve all somehow missed the argument, absorbed in studying for final exams.

Maybe, just _maybe_ you won’t go to prison and become Piper Chapman from Orange is the New Black.

Carmilla’s hand on your shoulder anchors you as Elle begins to splutter:

“Lawsuit…I’ll sue…you can’t…”

In a sudden motion, Carmilla kneels beside Elle. She whispers something in the blonde’s ear, causing the girl to pale considerably, before straightening and walking briskly towards you.

“C’mon Laura. Let’s go. Quick.”

She grasps your elbow firmly and the two of you power walk out of the quadrangle, leaving a crying Elle and a picnic in your wake.

And then the two of you are running, hand in hand, and laughing and laughing- because life is so odd, so strange, so wonderful and you love it so much, love _her_ so much; you could run with her forever and a day and never get bored.

You eventually reach your apartment, both of you panting and laughing as you collapse through the door and onto your couch.

 “Cupcake. I cannot believe you _punched_ someone for me. You are so much more badass then I thought.”

“Hey. I can be badass when I want to be.” You raise an eyebrow and mock glare at her.

Carmilla laughs and then reaches forward to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“O-Okay, to show your undying gratitude for my defence of you, you have to watch Doctor Who with me.” You splutter out.

Carmilla rolls her eyes, but then looks down at her hands, fidgeting slightly.

“Creampuff. Thank you. And I hope you didn’t believe any of those things she said.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes as you grab her hand and intertwine your fingers.

“Let’s just watch Doctor Who already, you useless lesbian.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I actually don't think Elle would be this bitchy and I imagine her to be a bit like Laura from the novella. But this violent little chapter just came out. I hope you enjoyed it anyhow!


	11. The Twilight Battle of the Library

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops I hope no one who reads this likes Twilight...

 You don’t know how Carmilla really feels about seeing Elle and having such a…colourful experience with her.

You hope that she was being honest when she told you to “forget it” and that it “didn’t matter in the slightest.”

You’ve tried to talk to her about it, but stone cold silences wore thin after a while, so you decided to let it drop for the time being.

In the meantime however, you decide to do everything in your power to distract Carmilla from thoughts of Elle.

And so, in order to take her mind off her jerkface ex, you decide to surprise Carmilla at her work with some cookies you’d baked instead of studying.

(You were a notorious procrastibaker and it really wasn’t good when you had upcoming exams!)

She worked part time in a library quite close to your apartment, and honestly you cannot believe that you met her on a train when the two of you have been so close to each other the entire time.

You’ve always loved libraries and one of your favourite things to do with Carmilla is to visit her whilst she’s working and argue over books.

(You like trashy romance and gritty thrillers. She likes everything and anything- except of course, for trashy romance novels.)

You can barely wait to tease Carmilla about the latest series that you’ve read, as you sneak up behind her to surprise her. She’s sitting behind the library checkout desk, and you gently snake your arms around her and place a kiss on her cheek.

“Guess who?”

“Hmm…is it, by any chance my tiny, annoying girlfriend?” She drawls, without turning around from the library catalogue.

“I brought cookies.”

Her attention immediately focusses on you, the catalogue now utterly forgotten.

“I take it back. You’re the best little cupcake in the world.”

She shifts over on her seat to make room for you and the two of you begin to happily stuff cookies in your mouths. They’re still slightly warm and gooey from the oven and in that moment you love them almost as much as you do Carmilla.

Carmilla chews slowly on a cookie, and then leans forward to kiss you softly- her lips are an inch away from yours and her legs are pressing against you, and suddenly you want her, you need her, right then, goddamn it you want her and-

-someone begins coughing meaningfully behind you.

You pull away, embarrassed and blushing slightly. Carmilla is as always, blatantly unashamed. Her expression darkens however, on seeing the owner of the cough.

“Oh God. What do you want Xena?” She growls, disgruntled.

Danny Lawrence, Carmilla’s tall, ginger, Amazonian co-worker quirks an eyebrow at the entangled couple as she towers over them.

“Oh I’m sorry Mortica Addams. Was I interrupting seduction time?”

“Yeah you kind of were. So if you could just, you know, come back never…”

Danny folds her arms over her chest in a take no prisoners manner.

“Well I’m sorry Mistress of the Snark, but I need you to put these books back in the stack. Laura can help too if you can’t bear to be apart.”

With a lot of grumbling and glaring at Danny (you’re pretty sure that she muttered something like “stupid Clifford” under her breath) Carmilla gets up from her chair and brushes cookie crumbs off her.

You chuckle to yourself as you watch their antics, because you know that as much as Carmilla pretends to hate Danny Lawrence, the two are actually extremely close. They had a weird friendship much like a cat might have with a dog- constant bickering, constant glaring, constant fighting over the most trivial of issues.

But they loved each other really. And it made you smile, because Carmilla could be so lonely and you were happy that she had someone like Danny in her life.

You remembered one dark night when Carmilla’s fear, her loneliness crept into bed and how she had whispered to you then in a soft gasp, of her terror after the car accident, and of the friendship that got her through it.

She’d told you how she had been unable to leave her apartment, unable to go see her friends (whose number gradually dwindled as she isolated herself) and how she had been almost unable to drag herself out of bed in order to say goodbye to those that she had loved and lost.

And then the tall redhead from her Philosophy study group, a girl she had barely known had dragged her out of bed and helped her through it. And stuck by her every day. No matter what.

No matter who abandoned her and left her in the dark, Danny would always be there for Carmilla to provide a glimmer of light. And you can’t describe how glad you are that Carmilla has someone she can count as family.

You come back to yourself then, aware of both Danny and Carmilla staring at you, both of them clearly running out of ‘witty’ insults to trade.

Carmilla quirks an eyebrow as you visible shake yourself.

“Well?” She mutters.

“Well what?”

Danny huffs out a sigh.

“Small, gay and broody here is trying to ask you to accompany her to the book stacks.”

“I don’t ‘brood’ Xena.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I meant ‘contemplate my insignificance in comparison to an arbitrary world instead of sleeping like a regular person,’ my bad, I’m sorr-”

“-Okaaayy.” You cut Danny off, flapping your hands in the air awkwardly. “I’m going to go help Carm. Feel free to eat some of the cookies- I left them on the desk.”

As you walk away from Danny, Carmilla begins to grumble.

“You just had to say that didn’t you buttercup?” She’s as moody as ever, and glares at you as you wave a cheerful goodbye to Danny and tell her to “take care.”

“Hmm? Say what?”

Carmilla puts on a high pitched voice, and wriggles her body awkwardly in a very, _very_ bad impersonation of you.

“Take all the cookies you want Danny. Take me as well. And don’t forget to take care!”

“I-I don’t…it wasn’t- hey did you just get jealous over a two second conversation I had with your best friend?”

“She’s not my best- ah whatever cupcake.”

Carmilla has the decency to look apologetic as she wheels the books towards the back shelf.

“Oooh!” you squeak excitedly, spotting the Harry Potter books on the shelf. “Those are the best.”

Carmilla nods in agreement and after placing a book or two back on the shelves she moves towards the ‘M’ section.

“Oh my god! Twilight!” Once more, your voice squeaks annoyingly high and you’re pretty sure you just saw Carmilla visibly flinch at the high pitch of your voice.

Carmilla is appalled at the mere mention of Twilight and is unimpressed.

“You can’t be serious sweetheart?”

(You aren’t actually a massive fan, not liking the borderline abusive nature of some of the relationships in the book, but you take a vindictive joy in rubbing Carmilla up about it, and she kind of deserves it after her grumbling.)

Affixing a lovesick look on your face, you sigh at the books and pick up a copy of Twilight.

“Are you Team Jacob or Team Edward?”

Carmilla’s look could burn holes in the ceiling, so fiery with disgust is it.

“Cutie. No.”

“C’mon Caarm. Just answer the question. Sparkly vamp or werewolf boy?”

“Sweetheart, I would be Team Bella, because Kristen Stewart. Now can we PLEASE go to another stack before I lose all of my remaining brain cells?”

But you can’t help but poke fun at her a little more, it’s quite hilarious to watch your grumpy little girlfriend get annoyed over Twilight.

 (And teasing her was an efficient way further distract her from any broody thoughts about Elle, not that you’d ever tell her this.)

And so you begin to flick through the book, quoting at random:

“Edward had drawn many lines for our physical relationship…”

“Wow are you trying to seduce me with that creampuff?” At this she shoots her trademark Seduction Eyes (as Danny has often called them) at you, but to no avail, because you’re a girl on a mission.

“I was distracted all weekend, worrying about you.”

Carmilla makes a retching sound and mimes throwing up all over the books (it’d probably be doing the world a favour).

It only gets worse from there.

“I watched you sleep.”

“Fucking stalker.”

“I’m not strong enough to stay away from you.”

“He’s a vampire. Doesn’t he have like, super strength?”

“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb.”

“That isn’t a very smart move. Survival wise.”

You take a deep breath as you open to the page where Edward reveals his sparkly nature, and your excitement must show in your eyes, because something like genuine fear flashes in Carmilla’s eyes.

“Cupcake. Will you please, for the love of God, STOP QUOTING TWILIGHT.” She says this so loudly, that people reading a few rows over begin to passive aggressively “shh” the two of you.

“Make me.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, in a horrible cliché straight from one of those chick flicks you had watched instead of studying.

“Fine.” Carmilla spits out, still infuriated by Edward’s idiocy.

She steps closer to you, invading your personal space and backing you up against the shelf so that New Moon and Eclipse are pressing against your back.

You swallow, suddenly nervous as Carmilla reaches out and gently plucks Twilight from your limp fingers and tosses it aside.

She rests her arms on either side of you, as she leans in closer and closer, smirking that infuriatingly attractive smirk. Her eyes have gone dark as she stares at you, and you gulp as she slowly licks her lips.

 _Oh God, she looks like she wants to eat me._ You think, channelling your inner Bella Swan momentarily.

You get a funny feeling in your stomach at the look in Carmilla’s eyes as she leans her forehead on yours. Your breathe out in a harsh gasp.

And then, her lips are pressed with infinite care against yours. You moan out at the electricity that that brief touch has incited within you, but then growl in frustration when she pulls away.

“No more quoting Twilight, creampuff.” She says, and you’re shocked to see that she too is breathless from that briefest of touches.

And then, in a sudden motion Carmilla kisses you, kisses you hard, pulling against your bottom lip and brushing her tongue against it. Her arms move to pin you closer against her and you eagerly move forward, desperate for more contact.

You lose yourself in her, as you always do and as you suspect, you always will.

But unfortunately you cannot let her win the Twilight Battle of the Library and so you _somehow_ manage to twist your head away from Carmilla, stopping your kiss.

That doesn’t deter her however, as she continues to kiss along your jaw, your shoulders, your collarbone, sliding a hand up the back of your shirt and rubbing your lower back in slow circles.

“I’m irrevocably in love with you.” You manage to pant out as she kisses your neck softly.

“That’s nice cuti- that was another Twilight quote wasn’t it?” she stops kissing you momentarily to glare at you. But then she looks at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes, and whispers “I guess I’m just going to have to try harder to silence you then…”

And that she does, as she pulls you towards her once more and kisses you, she kisses you harder and harder, until you are breathless and dizzy and cannot remember the Twilight Series at all, let alone your own name.

The bookshelf rattles dangerously as she presses against you and you moan again at the feeling of her against you.

Your hands begin to wander from where they have been resting at your sides. Of their own accord they slip under her shirt and begin to ghost across her abdomen. 

(Now it’s Carmilla’s turn to moan.)

Twilight and the books that the two of you were supposed to be stacking are long forgotten when a disapproving voice brings you back to yourself.

“Hey Mortica. That does not look like appropriate stacking.” Danny is standing at the end of the row, arms crossed and unimpressed to say the least.

“I was just educating her on the joys of Twilight.” You gasp out as Carmilla rolls her eyes beside you. “It’s actually very important for a librarian to know.”

“Yeah whatever Holli- wait. Carmilla Karnstein was reading Twilight?”

You burst out laughing then, and it seems that the whole library whispers “shh” as one, massive, passive aggressive mass.

Whatever remaining street cred badass Carmilla Karnstein had, you’ve utterly destroyed it.

But Carmilla’s smiling and her lips are swollen from kissing you and you know that she doesn’t care in the slightest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm sorry guys, but I go back to school next week so my updating is probably going to get more haphazard :( I'll try and update at least once a week...but things get hectic so I'll pretty much just write this whenever I have the time.


	12. She says your name like it's a lifeline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for this one.  
> tw: grief

“Laura.”

You’d been smiling when you’d picked up her call, but the silly grin that you always get when you hear her voice fades away as soon as she speaks. She’s never said your name like that before, with such urgency with such despair.

She says your name like it’s a lifeline, like it’s the only thing holding her together.

Her ragged breathing echoes down the phone.

“Carm, hey Carm, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here.”

There’s silence on her end, and your heart rate begins to pick up-you know that Carmilla is still grieving; you know she is not okay. But sometimes, somehow, you just don’t know how to be there for her.

Because how can you fix something like this? How can you fix something that can never be fixed, that will forever remain broken?

You begin to talk then, hoping to temporarily bandage the wound that has been festering for over a year.

You speak of all the things you love in your life- Doctor Who, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, LaF and Perry, dogs, cats, the walk you took in the park the other day (and it had been a great one, the sun shining through the trees in dappled brilliance) and of course you tell Carmilla how much you love her. You tell her how wonderful and beautiful she is and how she deserves to live, that she _deserves_ life.

And Carmilla breathes, whispering her thanks. You begin to hurry around your apartment now, frantically pulling on your shoes (you can’t find your socks, or any shoes and in your desperation you pull on a horrible pair of crocs you got for Christmas one year) as you keep talking to Carmilla about anything and everything.

“Creampuff.” The softest of murmurs.

“Yes, Carm?”

“Will you just come over, please, before you combust from all that rambling?”

“Hey I do NOT ramble, I articula-”

“Laura.”

* * *

 

When you reach her apartment, Carmilla is sitting on her small bed, leaning against the headboard and gazing out the window.

(You’d exchanged keys a couple of weeks ago and you’d let yourself in.)

Carmilla remains unmoving on her bed as you walk over to her.

 Bagheera, her mean old orange tom cat is on her lap, looking remarkably like Crookshanks from Harry Potter. The cat affixes you with a terrifying orange stare as you timidly sit down beside Carmilla.

You take her hand, her fingers lose in yours.

“Carm?”

Still she persists in looking out the window. Bagheera begins to growl softly, a low deep purr as Carmilla runs her other hand absently through his thick fur.

You sit like that for an age, perched awkwardly on the end of her bed, as she gazes blankly at the dark, grey buildings outside her apartment. A pigeon begins to wheel lazily, up, around and past her window, and her dark eyes track it blankly.

“It’s Will’s Birthday today.” Her voice is the merest croak of a whisper and she continues to stare fixedly at that pigeon.

(Bagheera, imitates Carmilla, clearly fascinated by the winged creature.)

“He was such a dork you know? We’d always pretend like we hated each other, we’d always be fighting and calling each other stupid nicknames. God I couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him for more than five minutes at a time when we were teenagers.”

“But when it came to stuff that mattered, stuff that we cared about…we were…always there for each other. So I guess I loved him, in my own screwed up way. And now he’s dead.”

Bagheera silently leaps off Carmilla’s lap and slinks away to a hidden corner of the small apartment. You timidly move closer to Carmilla and place an arm around her shoulders, gently rubbing your hand up and down her arm.

“I’m here.”

She leans into you and closes her eyes. It will have to be enough, your mere presence because you cannot tell her that you’re sorry (although you are) because that will not make it better and nothing ever will.

Bagheera meows from a corner.

“What would Will do, if he was here right now?”

Carmilla laughs thickly, and looks to the window once again. “He’d be hitting on you like the creep that he was, the idiot. But for his birthday, we’d usually just bicker a lot. Sometimes I’d bake him a cake and put something stupid on it, like ‘You survived another year, Fresh Meat.’ Although I guess that doesn’t apply any more, does it?” She laughs again. The pigeon begins to fly dizzy, demented circles in the air.

(You wonder vaguely where the rest of its flock is.)

You begin to gently comb your fingers through her hair as she looks at the window once again.

Carmilla Karnstein had been a mystery to you at first, a puzzle that you couldn’t understand. But being with her was something else entirely. On the surface she seemed like bad news in black leather pants, but over the few months you’d got to know her you’d realised that she was a beautiful, amazing dork. A dork who had been hurt, but _your_ dork, and you would help her through it.

Carmilla’s breaths begin to come in ragged gasps, but still she does not cry.

 “Carmilla.”

She nods slightly into your shoulder.

“Do you remember that time last week when we had an ice-cream fight?”

Carmilla hiccups and chuckles slightly, her breathing slows. “It’s hard to forget having vanilla ice-cream dribbling down your favourite shirt creampuff. It took days for my hair to return to its former glory after having sundae surprise in it.”

“Hey you were the one that started it.”

“Cupcake. You said that Spike and Buffy were a better couple then Buffy and Faith.”

“I just think that Spuffy had great chemistr-”

“Oh so is this your way of making me feel better? By talking about fictional not-lesbians?”

“Is it working?’

Carmilla pauses and smiles, a dark little, self-loathing smile.

(You know that a part of her hates herself for showing you her vulnerability. You know a part of her hates herself for being alive when her family was not.)

Finally, Carmilla murmurs: “I do love you, you know that, right Laura?”

You nod and Carmilla smiles weakly at you because you both know that sometimes, love is not enough.

(And that sometimes it hurts.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah sorry for taking so long to update! And sorry for the angst :/ I promise that the next chapter will be fluffy and have lots of Hollstein kisses!
> 
> If you want to come and bitch to me about the angst or tell me to hurry up with the updating thing, it's malacology.tumblr.com


	13. Beer Pong with the BFG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooaaa sorry for taking so long to update, school has been a real bitch recently. Have a long, fluffy chapter as an apology!
> 
> And thanks to anyone who reads this- you rule!

You knew that Carmilla had had a succession of bad days recently. You knew that her dead family were everywhere and anywhere she looked, standing around her as accusing spectres.

She’d dealt with it as best she could; putting on a brave face and pretending it didn’t hurt her as much as you knew it did.

(She hadn’t called you in desperation and grief again and it made you worry what she was doing when you weren’t with her. It made you worry what thoughts were dancing around in that intelligent mind of hers.)

Sometimes you’d catch such a look of weariness on her face, such a look of defeat and you couldn’t help but worry. Everyone grieved in their own way, you knew that from experience, and so you didn’t know if Carmilla would ever truly be able to move past the accident that had stolen so much from her.

(And you didn’t know how long the two of you could last until something had to give.)

And so Danny’s party provided a welcome distraction for the both of you, an occasion for both of you to be a couple, do stupid couple-y things and have fun.

Maybe you’ll be able to ignore the apprehension crawling behind you, breathing down your neck. Maybe you will be able to ignore the certainty that _something is going to give,_ the certainty that the two of you couldn’t go on pretending that everything was alright, but then again- surely Carmilla was fine? She loved you and you loved her and that had to be enough…

_(Something has to give Laura.)_

Danny was celebrating her 21st birthday and had invited you to come to her party. You’d run into her after your last lecture when you’d been returning a copy of Twilight that you’d taken out from the library.

(In an odd attempt to cheer Carmilla up, you had taken to quoting particularly bad sections to her and watching her laugh at the stupidity of it all.)

After Danny had stopped shooting you odd looks over the Twilight book, she had extended an invitation.

“Do you want to come to my 21ston Saturday?” And then she had rolled her eyes, sighed and muttered reluctantly: “And bring snarky little Mortica as well.”

It had been your turn to roll your eyes then. Carmilla was Danny’s best friend, of course she wanted her at the party, hell, Carmilla had probably organised half of the party for Danny- and yet both of them insisted on continuing to pretend to hate each other.

It was enough to drive you mad.

But you put up with it, because they were both ridiculous dorks, and Carmilla had smiled when you had told her about the invitation, one of her first genuine smiles since Will’s Birthday.

And something swooped in your chest at that smile, and the past few weeks were forgotten in an instant. It’s difficult to put it into words sometimes, that feeling that you get when you look at her, that swells in your chest, threatening to burst its banks and overwhelm you in glorious happiness.

(It’s indescribable and can surely only be called love.)

* * *

 

“What’s up, Hagrid?” Carmilla has to yell to make herself heard as Danny rolls her eyes and walks towards yourself and Carmilla, pushing her way through the crowd to reach the two of you.

 (Her ridiculous height thankfully makes it very easy for her to part the throng of drunken people who are happily ‘dancing’ to a mechanised beat.)

“Hi Laura, you made it.” She smiles a big, goofy grin at you and you smile politely back. Danny cuts her glance to Carmilla, her look less friendly. “And nice to see you managed to pull yourself away from all the brooding to make time for your favourite ginger.”

“Oh well I just couldn’t resist the thought of watching lackwits celebrate _your_ birthday, I mean it’s just such an auspicious occasion isn’t it?” Carmilla smirks at Danny. As she does so, she reaches her hand down to yours and gently intertwines her fingers with yours.  

“Yeah it really is, isn’t it? I mean, obviously it can’t beat stargazing or reading Wollstonecraft…”

“You forgot, ‘contemplating my own insignificance,’ beanstalk.”

“I was getting there.”

The two of them both grin at each other for the briefest of seconds before they both look away. A tall, presumably drunk young man begins to ‘sing’ along to Taylor Swift.

“SCREAMING, CRYING, PERFECT-”

 “Anyway I have to go mingle I’ll see you guys for the cake and the speeches about how much you love me and how much-”

“ROSE GARDEN FILLED WITH THORNS-”

“-you wish you were me! Catch you later!” Danny has begun to glare off in the direction of the Swift fan and she strides purposely towards him. You gulp on the boy’s behalf- somehow you don’t think it would be fun to be on the receiving end of the Jolly Ginger Giant’s anger.

_Oh my god I’m starting to use Carmilla’s nicknames now…I’m in way too deep…_

“Do you want to go play beer pong, cupcake?” Carmilla murmurs in your ear, her voice a soft brush against your skin.

(Cupcake. She called you cupcake…It’s the first time she’s called you an edible treat nickname in a week. Those names used to annoy you to no end, but now they make you giddy with joy.)

“I didn’t realise there _was_ a game of beer pong going on.”

“There isn’t.”

 _“Carmilla.”_ You shouldn’t even be surprised anymore.

“Yes, I did bring supplies. This night just got a whole lot better than jumping up and down to Taylor Swift and trying to avoid the BFG. You’re welcome creampuff.”

You actually manage to glare at her for longer than a few moments, although it is extremely difficult. She’s wearing a lacy white top and those infamous leather pants and dear Lord in that moment you just want to jump her, right then and there, in front of the many enthusiastic frat boys dancing to Taylor.  

She meets your glare unflinching, smiling a fey grin at you.

You abandon your glare, mentally kicking yourself as you relent. “Fineee Carmilla, I’ll play your stupid game with you.”

“Sundance, beer pong is not a mere _game…”_

* * *

You wonder vaguely where Carmilla was hiding all those ping pong balls, but not for long, as your entire attention becomes focussed on the game. You and Carmilla are playing against Danny and the large Taylor Swift fan (whose name you’ve learnt is Brody Kirsch) and both have pretty good aim.

So of course you’re already a little tipsy having had to constantly down small cups of beers.

(Being a lightweight really sucks sometimes.)

You screw up your face, lining up the ball carefully. You try to remember your twelfth grade physics but beer has made your thoughts slippery and every time you try to think of _trajectories_ you get a headache- perhaps foreshadowing the hangover you will surely have tomorrow morning.

Carmilla murmurs something beside you and you cut her an annoyed look. She’s right- beer pong is not a mere game; beer pong is a way to prove yourself to your friends- a way to show them that you were a _winner._

And so throwing caution to the wind you slam the ball down on the table, hoping to God that it will land in one of the cups. Unfortunately, the ball bounces wide and hits Kirsch right between the eyes. Danny and Carmilla both burst out laughing as Kirsch pouts and clutches his face.

“Are…you olay?” You slur out to Kirsch, covering your face with your hands in a mixture of shame and embarrassment.

_Getting drunk when you’re a klutz really isn’t a good idea…_

You’ve obviously had more to drink then you’d thought and Carmilla and Danny begin to direct their laughter towards you.

“Man, I wish I had a sombrero or something right now.” Danny says through her fits of laughter. “Can you imagine Laura wearing it and bumping off walls and saying _ole_ to everyon-”

“-Or getting into a rage and pelting random people with ping pong balls…” Carmilla smirks.

 “Oh no, I’m _fine,”_ Kirsch exclaims loudly, drawing the attention back to himself. “I mean you’re a total bro Laura, but that hurt like a b…bad thing.”

“I’m so sorry Kirsch! Here maybe if I try again I’ll be able to get it in the cup and win!”

Kirsch rubs his face distractedly and says, “Look I’m going to go find some bros. I’ll catch you hotti- girls later.” He wanders off to sulk, zigzagging in a worrying fashion.

Danny sighs loudly, watching him leave. With a resigned look she rolls her eyes heavenward and makes to follow him.

“I better make sure he’s okay.” She tosses over her shoulder to the two of you as she looks over the crowd to find Kirsch.

Carmilla turns towards you still grinning and flushed with laughter. “Ok so cupcake, maybe beer pong isn’t really your game…”

But you’d play it a hundred times more if it would make Carmilla look that happy, look that alive!

You giggle and Carmilla looks so cute with her flushed cheeks and tousled hair that you lean towards her and peck her briefly on the lips.

“I think beer pong turned out pretty well actually.”

She slowly raises her finger tips to her mouth and touches her lips with a look of wonder on her face.

“Oh cutie…” She whispers.

* * *

 

The two of you end up curled together on a couch, Carmilla had had quite a bit more to drink at this point and seeing her tipsy would probably be more amusing if you weren’t so smashed yourself.

She tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and gazes at you dreamily.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have golden flecks in your eyes?”

You giggle and blush and looking down shyly as you mutter: “They usually just compliment me on my keen fashion sense.”

“That’s definitely not what I’m talking about sweetheart.” Carmilla says softly.

You look up then and see Carmilla looking at you hungrily, her eyes travelling over you slowly. Something ripples in the air between the two of you, and you press forward, eager to get as close to Carmilla as possible.

She licks her lips and your brain short circuits as her teeth catch on her bottom lip. She moves even closer to you, so close that you can see her eyelashes brushing against her cheeks. And then she kisses you softly on the nose, her lips a ghost against your skin.

“Got your nose, cupcake.”

And before you know what is happening, the two of you are kissing, clumsy, open mouthed, drunken kisses that sing of your desperation and your love.

You tangle your fingers in Carmilla’s black hair and you feel her smirk into your mouth as she deepens the kiss, moving forward so that she is on your lap.

Neither of you care that you are putting on a show for anyone who cares to watch at Danny’s party. No, Carmilla’s kisses are enough to wipe away any niggling concerns.

Her hand begins to travel slowly up your shirt as your hands roam down her sides, drifting towards her ass. You giggle as she brushes her tongue against yours

You’re on the verge of dragging Carmilla into a bathroom and having your way with her, hell, you don’t even know if you have the patience even for that- you just want to be with her right here, right now, in a blurry haze.

But alas, good things must come to an end and as you emerge to take a brief breather (seriously Carmilla’s kissing should be illegal), you notice that wide-eyed attention that you are getting from some of Kirsch’s “bros.”

And you hear the wolf whistles and cheers.

(“Whew! Yeah chicks on chicks! This is hot dude, come check it out!”)

Carmilla seems unperturbed, looking up at you from the couch that you had pinned her to, with tousled hair. She raises an eyebrow as if to ask: “Why did you stop?”

Blushing furiously once more, you crawl off her. “Rat boys.”  You slur, shaking your head in embarrassment.

Carmilla blinks, confused. You’re glad to see that you’re not the only one dazed by all the kissing- obviously you were doing something right as well!

(Then again, it might just be the copious amounts of shots she had downed.)

She shakes her head and moves off the couch, untangling herself from you with elegant care.

“Nothing to see here boys. Why don’t you go jerk off alone in a room now because you have small penises and can’t get laid?”

 And with that she turns smartly on her heel and walks out of the room, leaving you alone on the couch, staring after her with open-mouthed admiration.

It’s amazing how Carmilla manages to come up with insults such as those, you honestly think that she must dedicate at least 50% of her so called “brooding time” to thinking up witty comebacks for all situations. Honestly how did she do it? You had enough difficulty not wordlessly exclaiming at people you found irritating and resorting to Krav Maga and bear spray.

And of course, sometimes you resorted to punching people in the face. Maybe you should take an insult course from Carmilla, because that honestly had not been a good move.

Shaking your head in wonder, you stumble off the couch and push through the dumbstruck boys, off to find your wayward girlfriend.

* * *

 

“You guys are like bunnies. I need to hose the two of you off each other or something!”

Danny interrupts Carmilla just as she was pressing you deeper against a tree the two of you were hidden behind as you made out like horny teenagers. In fact, she had just performed a particularly skilful manoeuvre with her tongue and you feel a flicker of annoyance at Danny for interrupting.

Somehow, you manage break away from Carmilla to try to give Danny your attention. Carmilla however, seems to have no qualms about continuing to kiss you, and she begins to press light, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

You’re dazed once again, and you blink blearily at Danny trying to focus and ignore Carmilla. The combination of Carmilla and beer has made you inarticulate and it takes you a while of blinking at her in a dumb founded manner before you remember how to speak.

“Wha…is it time for the speeches?”

(Carmilla has reached your ear now and nibbles on it gently.)

“Yes Laura, and you’re welcome to make one if you possibly can in your condition…”

“I can…ahh… speech.”

“Sure you can, shortie. C’mon Mortica, get off your girlfriend and come and get cake.” Danny tugs on Carmilla’s arm lightly, smirking.

(You realise that Danny is probably delighted to see Carm so happy and that makes you even happier and that makes you want to pull Carmilla down for another kiss, and then another-)

“LAURA. SPEECH. NOW.” Danny talks to you very slowly, rolling her eyes. “You two will be the death of me I swear to God…”

* * *

 

“-And she gave me a snozzcumber and said that she caught dreams and had rescued me from evil cannibal giants. I can’t believe the Big Friendly Giant is finally 21, but honestly I don’t know where I’d be without her.” Carmilla had grabbed the microphone off Kirsch and was now concluding a very ‘heartfelt’ speech about her best friend. “Seriously Danny, I wouldn’t say this if I wasn’t so utterly drunk, and I hope no one is recording this because I will deny this to my grave but…you’re alright Xena. Happy 21st!”

Carmilla takes a wobbly bow then, drops the microphone with a clatter, raises her champagne fluke to Danny and stumbles back into the crowd towards you, cackling with mirth.

The crowd is silent for a few moments before people burst into raucous rounds of applause, laughing at Danny’s face, which has turned as red as her hair.

(She definitely regrets pulling Carmilla away from you now, that’s for certain.)

The crowd is restless for a few minutes before Danny’s head pops over the crowd and yells:

“WHO WANTS CAKE?”

There’s a roar of answering happiness from the crowd, and what happens next you can only describe as a mosh, friends pushing friends in rabid desperation to reach the holy grail that was Danny’s birthday cake.

Carmilla disappears from your side for a second, lost in the violent hoard. You try and stay away from the chaos, looking around for her in drunken confusion. Where could she possibly have gotten to?

And then you feel a light tap on your shoulder and turn to find Carmilla, panting and flushing and smiling.

“Look what I have!” She says delightedly, producing a squashed piece of cake from behind her back.

“How did you get that?” You gasp in amazement and joy, because _god almighty_ Carmilla must love you to have braved that battlefield.

“I have my methods.” She grins at you. “Go on, eat it- a cupcake for my cupcake.”

“It’s not even a cupcake Carm, it’s a chocolate cake.” But you smile and lean forward and take a delicate bite from the cake on her hand.

It’s amazing to say the least and you lose yourself in a chocolate-y delirium. How is the chocolate and icing in such perfect ratio? How is the texture so amazing?

You look up to see your girlfriend watching you with amusement.

“You know, you’re not too bad to spend time with Carm.” You whisper through a mouthful of cake crumbs.  She looks at you then, with something beautiful in her eyes, something soft, and loving and gentle. You lean over to kiss her on her smiling cheek and her skin is gloriously soft against your lips.

She takes a bite of cake to hide her smile and you swear you have never seen someone so beautiful, so perfect, so adorable, in your entire existence.

* * *

 

After Danny’s party the two of you walk to your apartment and curl up together on your bed, Carmilla the big spoon to your little, her cheek resting against your shoulder as she sleeps.

And when you wake in the morning, everything tastes of chocolate and Carmilla and her head is resting against yours. And you know for certain now, that this is how you want to wake up every morning for the rest of your life- with the taste of chocolate floating in the air and with your girlfriend beside you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that and apologies for any typos/mistakes. I got lazy half way through proofreading so yeah...


	14. Wet Socks and Strawberry Fights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry for taking forever to update! I should be able to update more over the holidays.
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter. It basically consists of fluffy Hollstein drabbles.

“I spilt coffee on my coffeet!” You exclaim in dismay, watching as brown liquid trickles down onto your favourite pair of boots.  

LaF, Perry and Carmilla all groan and roll their eyes at your terrible pun in a move you are sure they must have rehearsed together in secret. No group could be that in sync without some kind of prior rehearsal, of that you were certain.

 _They could be a little more sympathetic to my plight._ Yeah, the pun had been terrible but now your socks were extremely wet. And there was nothing that could ruin your day more than wet socks.

“Oh c’mon cupcake. Your shoes will be fine. And I’ll buy you another coffee.”

As you move to take your seat beside Carmilla in the café, you see LaFontaine throw a sharp elbow at Perry and mutter “she’s totally whipped” as they nod towards Carmilla.

You realise that it’s true. You probably have Carmilla in the palm of your hand…especially after that move you had performed last night last night when-

“So have things been nice and _normal_ with the two of you?” Perry interrupts your thoughts, some of which were definitely not appropriate for you to be having whilst on a lunch date with your friends.

To your surprise, Carmilla answers Perry.

(She really seems to be making an effort today, and apart from the earlier eye rolling and groaning, she seems totally transformed from her usual snarky self.)

“Oh yeah we’ve just been peachy, haven’t we cutie?”

(Well…try as she might Carmilla could never truly purge herself of sarcasm.)

“Actually, we’ve been great! The other day, Carmilla left these little sticky notes throughout her apartment and when I came and visited she just sat and brooded on her bed with her cat and I went on a treasure hunt and found all this cool stuff, like a flower and chocolate!”

Carmilla looks uncomfortable and you realise you’re probably ruining her badass reputation once more. She’s such a romantic and a softy really. It’s so funny to you that no one but you seems to know it.

“And of course it’s great to be on holidays from Uni.” You continue, trying not to get too fixated on your thoughts about Carmilla. “What about you two?”

LaF and Perry exchange lovesick looks that you find adorable. However, you know that Carmilla would feel differently. If she wasn’t on her best behaviour, you were sure that Carmilla would be miming a loud retching sound right about now.

“LaFontaine and I have been good Laura, they’ve been helping me organise my-”

You momentarily stop focussing on Perry’s very _exciting_ story about how she used the Dewey Decimal System to catalogue her notes from over the last three or so years as you catch Carmilla giving you a soft, loving look.

You automatically start smiling in response to her gaze and you have to stop yourself from reaching over to tuck a wayward black curl behind one of her ears.

And then she gives you one of her rare, genuine smiles that she seems to reserve only for you.

(Both of you probably look like lovesick fools right now, but does it really matter? For you are young and so, _so_ in love and nothing, _nothing_ will go wrong, even though you thought that it would, because you are enough for Carmilla- the two of you are enough for each other.)

LaFontaine suddenly makes a loud retching sound startling the two of you from each other.

* * *

 

“Cupcake, I cannot believe I’m going _strawberry picking_ with you. Do I not have a right to just one scrap of dignity? Is that too much to ask?”

“Um, Carm, you were the one that _agreed_ to go strawberry picking with me. You didn’t have to.”

“You know I can’t say no to you when you do that puppy dog thing! You were playing dirty Laura, and I am not impressed.” She begins to pout and in response you begin to fake a coughing fit, spluttering out “whipped” between coughs.

Carmilla merely raises an eyebrow. “Nasty cough you’ve got there creampuff.”

You can’t think of a witty remark when she’s doing that smouldering thing with her eyes so instead you try and focus on not accidently picking a strawberry with a large spider on it. That would not be fun.

(Then again Carmilla could probably just give the spider one of her frightening glares and it would wither and die.)

The bickering dying down for the time being, the two of you begin to focus on picking strawberries. It is only after about five minutes when you realise that Carmilla is eyeing your pile of strawberries competitively, and picking strawberries at a rapid rate, a determined look on her face.

 _Oh if she wanted a race, then it’s_ on.

Your fingers begin to claw desperately at strawberries, shoving them into your basket. You knock Carmilla’s hand off a large strawberry and she hisses softly under her breath, shoving you aside in order to get at another strawberry. You push her back, angrily.

You forget your affection for Carm, you forget your own name, so desperate are you to win. You knock small children aside as you dash off to find more strawberries. You no longer care about spiders- they could bite you for all you cared! You just wanted to win, you needed to win and-

You see an incredibly large strawberry. It must be a mutant so massive is it- it surely must be three strawberries combined into one? If you get that strawberry it will not matter who has more in their basket.

You will have the holy grail of strawberries. Carmilla will have to bow down to your awesomeness.

You begin to run towards it, no _sprint,_ because you have always been a winner and you see now reason to stop now just because of some trivial thing like being in a long term relationship.

You’re about a metre away from the godly strawberry when you see Carmilla approaching from another path, her basket flying wildly in her hand, her eyes narrow and determined as she pumps her legs desperately.

You’re so so close, you can taste the sweetness of the strawberry as you reach out your hand and-

Carmilla reaches the strawberry at the same moment as you, and both of you crash right into each other, knocking each other flying.

Strawberries scatter everywhere as you and Carmilla are knocked flat. There is silence for a moment as both of you catch your breath and try to come to terms with the ridiculous game the two of you had just played.

And then the two of you exchange a look, and that is enough to set you both off laughing.

Just when you think you can stop laughing, you catch sight of the mangled mutant strawberry and that sets you off again. And Carmilla joins in, her throaty laugh intermingling with yours.

The two of you sit there, in the strawberry patch, laughing to your hearts content, utterly uncaring of the odd looks you’re getting from harried parents.

* * *

 

“Caaaarrmiillaaa. Carm. Wake up.”

“Cupcake what ungodly hour is it?”

“It’s 12pm.”

“Ugh. Go back to sleep cupcake.”

It’s another one of those lazy days that so defines your University holidays and you’re lying next to Carmilla in bed, gazing at her and playing with a curled strand of dark hair.

She looks so peaceful, so content lying beside you. At least, she did before you had awoken her- now she vaguely resembled an outraged cat.

She feels you watching her and slowly opens her dark brown eyes to gaze back at you.

“What is it creampuff?”

“I want to know more about you Carm.”

“Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” She groans and hides her head beneath your yellow pillow. Her muffled voice reaches you from beneath it: “cutie, you know all the important stuff. I have a tragic backstory, I like cats and I’m in love with you. And I swear I’m not a serial killer. Now let me sleep please.”

“But I don’t even know your favourite colour!” Your voice has become whiny but you cannot stop yourself. You want to know everything about her, every last detail.

“It’s black.”

 _Wow, what a surprise. Didn’t see that one coming_ at all.

“Black isn’t a colour Carm.”

“It is too damn early for us to be arguing about this buttercup.”

There’s a long silence as Carmilla tries to get comfortable underneath your yellow pillow. Failing, she groans and emerges, her hair mused in an adorable fashion. She glares up at you, unperturbed by your petulant expression.

“Fine cupcake.” She eventually mutters. “I’ll bite. I know I’m not so good at the whole _feelings_ thing but…”

A delighted grin spreads across your face. “Ok awesome Carmilla! Umm…so who do you ship more? Piper and Alex or Delphine and Cosima? And don’t even pretend like you don’t know what shipping is. I saw how you reacted when Cosima told Delphine-

“-Laura,” she interrupts in a deadly serious tone, “tell no one of this.”

“Carm, your nerdy little secret is safe with me.”

“Fine.” She looks around the room shiftily, acting as if she thinks the walls have ears. “Cophine for sure. I like Piper and Alex but…it’s not a healthy relationship. They don’t work creampuff. They just hurt each other.”

You feel a stab in your gut at that, but you ignore it. _Carmila’s fine. We’re fine._ You try to reassure yourself.

(But deep down you know that something isn’t right.)

“Favourite flower?” You distract yourself from your troubling thoughts, because Carmilla is your girlfriend and she is completely fine. She has to be.

“White orchid.”

(You wonder vaguely whether you should be taking notes for future romantic dates and gifts.)

“Favourite place?”

“The library. Or anywhere with you.”

“Favourite person?”

“You.”

You lean forward at that to kiss her gently on the lips and she smiles against you slightly.

“I knew my charm would work its magic on you someday creampuff…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up for some future smut and angst :)


End file.
